Ties That Bind Us
by FireflyCity
Summary: After Inception, Arthur thought it was all over, excluding a few side jobs of course. However, when Ariadne is kidnapped by a mysterious figure from Arthur's past, the team must assemble for one last job to save her. ArthurxAriadne
1. Invitation

Chapter 1: The Invitation

**A/N:** **This is my first Inception fanfic, inspired by a mix of my friend WolfieLovesSilently's "The Team Again" and various other factors. Basically, Ariadne is kidnapped by a mysterious criminal, who calls Arthur and offers him a deal, if he plays his game and wins then she goes free. If not…well, just read the chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or aspects of "Inception". Oh, and the title name was given to my friend and then me by Lazarus76.**

Oo0oO

Arthur lay silently on the springy queen bed, staring blankly at the pale yellow ceiling above. It was 7 in the evening, and already he had eaten dinner, packed his suitcase, and even had time to read a bit farther in the novel he had bought for the trip. With nothing left to do he had contented himself to looking at the ceiling, occasionally thinking of _her_. It had been a month now since he saw the young architect, and though he hated to admit it, every moment he spent apart from her tore at his heart.

It wasn't like he hadn't fallen in love before. Gracie Mourdoe, his girlfriend back in high school, had always made his heart pound and his breath stop at her beauty. But with _her_ it was different. It was like she was the sun at the center of his universe, pulling him closer and warming him with her smile. Her looks weren't like Gracie's, but she was attractive in a different way, in her personality and her innocence. It was because of that innocence that he insisted that she continue her studies in Paris, instead of asking her to come with him like he would have wanted to. He couldn't be that selfish, put her in so much danger just so he could be happy. A heart could wish what a heart could wish. Arthur sometimes wished he could understand his heart. After years of traveling into the dreams of others, picking away at their subconscious mind like an archeologist, he understood the inner workings of a mind better than some psychologists. But the needs of a heart he would never understand, nor could he ever hope to.

The buzzing of his phone brought him back to reality, two beeps and a short vibration alerted him that he had a text message. Reaching to the oak nightstand beside the bed, he picked up the phone and drew it close, reading the name. _Ariadne. _Even her name brought a smile to his lips.

Quickly he tapped the screen, and a small message icon pulled up. After tapping it again, the message appeared across the screen.

_Call me._

Two simple words. No emotion, no explanation. Puzzled, Arthur quickly did the mental math in his head, determining with a start that by now it would be around 1:00 a.m. in Paris. Ariadne was never up this late, not even the night before a test. Why would she text him so late, and why did she need him to call her so urgently? Part of him knew he was probably overreacting, and the part of him he'd trained so meticulously to handle any situation calmly won over. Taking a breath, he called her number, putting the phone to his ear. It picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" Ariadne's voice answered slowly, hesitantly.

Arthur breathed the smallest sigh of relief. "Hey, Ariadne it's me. You asked me to call-

"So this is who she decided to call."

Arthur started slightly. It was not Ariadne's voice that spoke, but a foreign, raspy voice of an unfamiliar man.

"I gave her the option to call one person, any person in the world, and instead of her family, or college friends or even the police, she called you."

Arthur's eyes widened and he stood up from the bed. "Where's Ariadne?"

"She's alive, and unharmed, at least for now," answered the voice mysteriously.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Arthur demanded, clenching his fist.

"You don't need to know who I am, but I do know who you are, Arthur, and that's all that really matters."

"What do you want?" Arthur repeated with icy calm, despite the emotional turmoil raging through his brain.

"I want to play a game," replied the voice, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur said, lowering his voice threateningly.

"I said I want to play a game. And not just any boring old game, no, but the best kind of game, a game with _prizes_."

Arthur bit his lip; something about the man's voice was disturbingly off, like a man on the very edge of sanity. Lunatics were just part of the business, as Eames would say, but another thing that seeped through this man's voice was power. He knew that Arthur could not disagree, not with Ariadne's life on the line. A lunatic was incredibly dangerous, especially with a hostage. Just the smallest little mistake could snap them; send them over the edge and into pure insanity. If this man reached that point, then Ariadne might not make it out alive.

"What kinds of prizes?" Arthur continued slowly, keeping the man distracted.

"I'm glad you still want to play." Here there was a brief pause, and Arthur could almost picture the man smiling to himself. "Here are the prizes. If you win then I will release your friend and turn myself in to the police. No violence, no suffering, nice and easy. However, if I win then you must do me one favor. I will not tell you the favor unless I win, but no matter what you must carry it out."

Arthur bit his lip again, silenced by thought.

"Now I will make you a deal. Because this is your first time playing the game you may bring no more than 3… _friends_ to help you. If you wish to play the game, bring yourself and your friends to Big Ben in London, England in 3 days' time. If you do not wish to play the game then I will kill your little friend here. Simple as that. When you arrive the game will be explained, and then we will start. Any questions?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, weighing his options. 3 days wasn't enough time to track down this man and stop him, not with the team scattered across the 7 continents, and refusing to play would ensure Ariadne's death. Playing would be dangerous, especially considering how he had no idea what kind of game they would play. But it was the only choice.

"No. I'll be there."

"Good." The voice replied, and Arthur swore he could actually hear the grin creeping onto the man's face. "I look forward to meeting the rest of your team, point man." And with that, the line went dead.

Oo0oO

Thousands of miles away, across a large blue ocean to a city wreathed in darkness, a phone snapped shut. For a moment there was just silence, then laughter started up, softly at first, but gradually increasing in volume until it echoed off the walls of the empty room.

"It looks like we will be playing our little game after all," said a man said slowly, smiling to himself.

After a moment, he gripped the phone in his hands and hurled it across the room with all of his strength. With a crash it collided with the solid concrete wall, shattering into a thousand pieces across the floor. In a dark corner, a young woman cringed slightly at the noise, reminding the man of her presence.

He turned to her, smiling a crooked smile as he walked her direction.

"And it's all thanks to you."

He crouched next to her, staring intently at her face as if trying to memorize every detail. Almost subconsciously it seemed, he began lightly stroking the side of her head with his hand. The girl shook slightly as he touched her, turning away from him. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain, of hearing her whimper or cry, no matter how badly she wanted to.

"You don't have to be so afraid, I won't hurt you. No, you're much too important for that," the man assured, moving his hand under her chin, lifting it slightly and forcing her to look at him. She released a shaky breath, but still said nothing, feeling his dark eyes burn into hers.

After receiving no response from the girl, he stood up and walked away, his shoes clicking against the cement floor. As he approached a thick metal door that lead out to the hallway, he flipped off the overhead light, then latched the door behind him. The room was now heavy with darkness, the only source of light coming in small diamonds from the barred windows that hugged the ceiling-far too high for her to see out of.

Finally alone, the girl breathed in and out deeply, tears rolling slowly down her face as she let out sobs.

"Arthur," she sobbed through her tears. She tried to say more, but she only said his name again and again, until eventually her own exhaustion pulled her into a shallow, fretful sleep.

Oo0oO

**A/N: All reviews appreciated! Thanks so much to all the readers!**


	2. Shattered Peace

Chapter 2: Shattered Peace

**A/N: Hello peoples! Thank you so much to all the wonderful reviewers, I appreciate any and all feedback. Unfortunately, this week my school has assigned an irrational amount of homework, so the only thing I've had the opportunity to do all week was…well…homework. So I thank you all for your wonderful patience, and here is the chapter.**

Oo0oO

Arthur reluctantly pulled the phone away from his ear; clicking off the main screen and dumping it unceremoniously back onto the dresser. It crashed noisily as the sleek plastic banged against the wood, the sound reverberating in his brain like an echo. Arthur slowly perched himself at the very edge of the mattress, his typically efficient and well-organized mind spinning as it struggled to fully grasp the situation.

All he knew for certain was that a mysterious man, who seemed to know a frighteningly great deal about Arthur and what he held close to him; had Ariadne captive, threatening to take away her life if Arthur did not do what he wanted. To make matters worse, instead of requesting something sensible of ransom, like money or power, he simply requested that Arthur play a game. A game could be anything; a game of survival, a game of knowledge, a game of chance. Arthur hated games of chance, of having to rely on luck rather than skill, and risking everything on one single roll of the die or spin of the wheel. Depending on what you were playing for, games could be dangerous; and in this case, deadly. Arthur knew he had no choice but to play along, and he had the feeling that this was exactly what Ariadne's captor wanted.

Arthur shuttered slightly as he remembered the man's cold, malicious voice; and the deep, powerful hunger that radiated through his words when he spoke. It was almost as if the man was feeding off of his compliance, his inability to do anything for the young architect but follow this man's commands. A cold chill went up Arthur's spine, and he had a bad feeling that he had been right when he predicted this man's insanity.

Suddenly, Arthur abruptly shot up from his position on the bed, instinctively feeling around in his coat pocket until his hand closed around something small and cool. He slowly drew his hand back out, examining the object enclosed within it. A six sided cube, worn slightly at the edges from use, rested in his palm; refracting the dim light from the nearby lamp into complex patterns across his skin. He twirled the small di between his fingers, careful not to lose his grip as he scanned the concave grooves etched into its otherwise smooth surface. Soon he found what he was looking for, and his fingers mechanically readjusted themselves around the game piece. With utmost precision he flicked the di at the nightstand, where it clattered and spun across the surface until it eventually slid to a standstill. Arthur let out a breath as he glanced at the side left face up, reaching over the table to retrieve the di and return it to its place.

He tried not to feel disappointed, for it only confirmed what he already knew; this was not a dream. The unavoidable fact now stared him in the face, daring him to roll again in a feeble attempt to change reality. Part of him felt like collapsing on his bed, drifting into the peaceful visions of his unconscious mind and just forgetting the call ever happened. But he could not run from the truth. Ariadne was in danger, and he had been entrusted with her life by being given the option to refuse or accept the man's invitation to play his game. And Arthur had no intention of losing.

Once again reaching for his phone, he quickly dialed a number.

Oo0oo

The sun shone brightly in the pale blue sky, a slight breeze stirring the small grass field where two young children sat hunched over the ground. The girl, taller than her much shorter, rambunctious brother, wore a long blue dress, her golden hair wandering through the currents of air. Her brother, adorned in a striped yellow shirt and brown khakis, squatted beside her on the ground, pointing out various bugs and giving detailed -though utterly incorrect- explanations of them.

From inside the house, Cobb looked up from his paperwork, watching them for a while as they laughed in the warm sun's glow. He smiled to himself; Miles had been wrong about the occasional stuffed animal being enough for them to be convinced they still had a father. Even now when he went in their rooms to tuck them in, the small plush toys he had gathered from his travels still lined their shelves proudly.

It felt good to be home after so long…though a small part of him still did miss dream-sharing; creating other worlds so much like their own, turning the smallest, simplest idea into something amazing, all of it. That was what he had liked about being an architect, that ability to construct entire cities out of pure imagination. Though he had to admit, Ariadne was better even than he was, and incomparably better than Nash.

Turning back to his work, a moment before he could place his pen against the paper his cell phone vibrated violently, a monotone preset ringer erupting from the speakers. Cobb grabbed the phone, not bothering to glance at the number as he put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Dom? It's me."

"Arthur," Dom stated, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He hadn't heard from Arthur in several months, not that he had been avoiding him but simply that the both of them were busy with other matters. Still, an unexpected call from Arthur worried Dom, for Arthur had a slight tendency of never calling with good news.

"Dom I need your help," Arthur said quickly, a slight edginess to his voice that Dom hadn't heard before.

"What happened?" Dom questioned, rising from his workspace and moving away from the window so Phillipa and James wouldn't overhear their conversation.

"I need your help. Something's happened…it's about Ariadne." Arthur explained grimly.

"Ariadne? Arthur what happened?" Dom said anxiety now building in his chest.

"About 10 minutes ago she texted me to call her. At the time I didn't question it, and she was the one who answered, but…there was another man on the line. He said if I wanted to see Ariadne alive I would have to do what he asked of me."

Cobb was silent for a moment, his eyebrows crinkling in thought. "What does he want?"

Here Arthur hesitated. "He didn't say specifically, just I had to play a game."

"A game? What the hell does that mean?" Cobb demanded, his anxiety quickly blossoming into frustration.

"I'm not sure, but he said that if I did not play then he would kill her, and if I wanted to play the game, to meet him at Big Ben in London, England in 3 days' time. He also told me I had the option to bring no more than 3 people to help me. If we win the game, he will release Ariadne and turn himself into the police, and if we lose, then we owe him one favor."

Cobb paused, his mind slowly processing the details of everything that had been said. "And… what would happen to Ariadne if we lost?"

"He didn't say," was all Arthur said, though Cobb could tell by the tone of his voice that her fate would not be a pleasant one. "Cobb, whoever this man is… he knows me, well enough to know Ariadne meant something to me, and that I would actually attempt to get her back without consulting the police. More than that even… I think he knows about the dream share program."

"What?" Cobb's reeling mind stopped in its tracks. "That… how is that possible?"

"I don't know, but he put special attention to me being a point man, and he said he was 'looking forward to meeting the rest of my team'."

Cobb sucked in a breath of air, pacing the perimeter of the dining room tensely. "I don't like this," he began hesitantly, "it's one thing for this man to simply know you from something in the past, but how could he possibly know about the dream share program?... You're sure there was nothing familiar about him, something he said that rang any sort of bell?"

"I'm positive," Arthur replied after a short pause. "But why do you ask?"

Here, Cobb paused for a moment, breathing a small sigh. "Based on what you said, this man seems alarmingly familiar with your experiences in the dreamscapes. And though I don't know for sure… I have a feeling his 'game' might involve the program as well."

"What?" Arthur choked, startled "I mean… How can you be sure though?"

"I'm not," Cobb replied grimly, "but there are too many coincidences to believe otherwise. His reference to you being a point man, the mention of meeting your 'team', the 3 friend slots that would be perfect for an extractor, architect, and forger. It's too perfect…" he faded off, searching for an alternative option but the inevitable. However, finding none, he continued. "Even so… we have to participate; it's our only chance at getting her back."

"Right …I take it your on board then?" Arthur questioned, referring to Cobb's multiple use of words like 'we' and 'us'.

Suddenly realizing his thoughtlessness, Cobb cursed under his breath, stopping in his endless pacing to look again out the window. Past the thin screen, his kids still hunched over the ground, as they always were.

"Look Cobb I know you just got back a few months ago, but please." Here Arthur paused, almost as if he was reading his mind. "You'll be back before they even have time to miss you."

Cobb didn't take his eyes off the two young children, only half listening to Arthur. He knew from the very beginning that the point man had made up his mind to go, and that there was nothing in his power he could say or do to stop him. He had loved Ariadne, wanted to protect her, and was now left to face overpowering weight of his guilt for letting her fall into his enemy's hands. Cobb knew the feeling; it was the same emotion that had clenched him all the years he was away from his children. The guilt. The love. Both emotions waging countless battles in the early morning hours.

And… as hard as it was to leave them again, to go back to a life that he had been fighting so hard to escape, he had to. For Ariadne. For Arthur.

With a small sigh, Cobb turned back to the phone. "You can count on me Arthur."

"Thank you Cobb. I'm pretty sure Eames will come along if we ask him, which leaves the architect…" Arthur faded off. He and Cobb were both thinking the same thing. Ariadne was their architect.

"I could be the architect, I've done it before, and I could do it again." Cobb offered, though he knew his gesture was unrealistic as soon as the words left his mouth.

"No Cobb, it's been years. Besides, you're still the best extractor I know."

Cobb agreed wearily, admitting to himself that he was a few years out of practice. "Let me find an architect. Miles probably has another promising student he can let me borrow for a while."

"You're going to find another architect as good as Ariadne in less than 3 days?" Arthur asked, disbelief evident on his voice.

"No, I am going to find _**an**_ architect; I never said they were going to be as good as her."

Arthur sighed. "Do your best. Since we don't know exactly what we're facing, we'll need the best team we can to go to London. I'll find Eames and get in touch with Yusuf about sedative. I'll meet you and the architect and the London Eye in 2 days."

Cobb agreed. "If we're lucky then we'll have some time to look into Ariadne's capture and make a plan before we have to play this man's game."

"If we were lucky, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Arthur said sullenly.

"Alright, I'll see you there; call me if anything else comes up."

"Got it. Bye."

"Bye."

Oo0oO


	3. Gathering the Team

Chapter 3: Gathering the Team

Oo0oO

The room was small and dark, the only source of light trickling in through the dusty wooden blinds that hung limply in front of the one tiny window. A few small rays of moonlight managed to push their way through the shades, painting the dreary brown carpet with brilliant stripes of white. Outside the window, tall gray rectangular buildings stretched to the sky, most of them tiny, one-room apartments stacked one on top of the other. The streets below were almost silent, the late hour withdrawing nearly everyone to their chambers. The room's occupants had carelessly left the window wide open, and a cool night breeze occasionally stirred the blinds into a slow, rhythmic thump against the screen, the only sound beside that of the wind. In spite of this, however, the room retained a humid stuffiness, the pungent smell of sweat and alcohol tainting the air.

Suddenly, a piercing sound sliced through the room, a high-pitched, electronic ringtone echoing through the night. There was an audible groan from somewhere in the dark room, followed by a rustling noise as a head was stuffed under a cheap hotel pillow. After about a minute the ringing finally stopped, only to start up again seconds later.

"Shut off your fucking phone," commanded a muffled female voice, sounding extremely grumpy after having been awoken from a mid-night slumber.

There was another groan, this one much deeper than the female's. More rustling was heard as its owner untangled himself from the mess of sheets, coaxing himself into a sitting position and eventually out of his bed altogether. After a long night at the bar he had forgotten to turn it off, and had then tossed it thoughtlessly on the kitchen counter when he came home with the girl. Now, he put all his effort into trudging across the floor, his feet wading through various articles of clothing that lay strewn around the room. When he eventually reached the phone, he grabbed it off the counter, and was just about to turn it off when he read the name.

"I have to take this," the man said after a moment of silence, receiving another moan from girl. Accepting the call, he angrily jammed the phone against his right ear.

"Hello?"

"Eames it's-"

"You better have a bloody good reason for calling me in the middle of the night," Eames cut in, sounding genuinely pissed off. The voice on the other end paused for a moment, caught off guard by Eames' livid response.

"I do, but we need to talk…now." Arthur insisted, making it clear that he was incredibly serious.

Cursing under his breath, Eames snatched a fuzzy red robe hanging on the back of a wooden chair, impatiently shoving his body into it while attempting to keep his grip on the phone. Tying the robe securely on his body, he swiftly crossed the room and exited the large white door, emerging into the hallway.

Cheap ceiling lights illuminated the space beyond, and though it was dimmed for the evening, the light difference still cause spots to dance in front of his eyes. Eames had a killer headache after last night, and the colorful 60's carpeting that covered the floor of the hallway wasn't helping much. Blinking away the pain, Eames lifted the phone back up to his ear.

"I'm listening," he said through clenched teeth, his mind shrouded in a thick fog as the alcohol slowly pumped out of his system.

"It's about Ariadne."

"Look, if you're calling for dating tips then you picked a really bad-"

"She's been kidnapped." Arthur cut off, desperation and urgency leaking into his voice.

Eames stopped, the haze lingering over his mind suddenly clearing as he processed Arthur's words. "What?"

"She's been kidnapped," Arthur repeated solemnly, "A little while ago she texted me to call her; and I didn't think anything of it so I did. She answered, but then another voice cut in. He said if I wanted her alive then I would do what he asked of me."

"Whoa whoa, slow down Arthur." Eames insisted, his mind still recovering from last night. "First, are you positive that she is in real danger? It probably wouldn't have been hard to get a voice recording of her answering the phone; someone could have used that to make you think they had her," he reasoned.

"I'm positive. The call came from her cell phone, and when she answered she sounded…scared, like she was on the verge of tears," Arthur recalled, wondering how he could have possibly missed it the first time. "I already tried calling her dorm, and when no one answered I tried to call her cell back, but the call couldn't go through. Tomorrow I was going to call Miles to see if he's seen her, but I have a bad feeling that I already know what his answer is going to be."

Eames blew out a breath, and with it his last hope that maybe, just maybe, Arthur had been wrong, that Ariadne had not been kidnapped and they could all just go back to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.

It would always be so easy, it always was, running away and acting like none of it matters. It's what he always did when he was younger, found it easier to run from his problems rather than face them. Unfortunately, though, this _was_ happening, Ariadne had been kidnapped, and he wasn't doing her or himself any good by standing there wishing it hadn't.

"Alright, what does he want from you?" Eames asked, giving in to the idea that someone had Ari held hostage.

"He said he wanted me to play a game. I don't know what that means, but he said that if I didn't play his game that he would kill her. He said if I wanted to play, to meet him at Big Ben in London, England in 3 days' time. He also told me I had the option to bring no more than 3 people to help me. If I win the game, he will release Ariadne and turn himself into the police, and if I lose, then I owe him one favor." Arthur explained, giving Eames a similar speech to the one he gave Dom.

It was a moment before Eames answered, still having trouble comprehending what he was being told. "So are you asking me to be one of your three friends?"

"What else would I be asking?" Arthur said, his tone momentarily taking that of a smug young boy.

Eames sighed. "And I take it you've already spoken to Dom as well?"

"Yes. The man's voice sounded vaguely familiar, and Dom thinks they might know me, well enough to know about dream-sharing and even you and him as well. Plus, 3 people is just enough for an extractor, architect, and a forger."

Eames began to walk absentmindedly down the corridor, feeling his toes sink into the soft hippie carpet as he did so. "I don't like this Arthur; this isn't your classic kidnapping for ransom. We have no idea who this man is, what he wants, or what his motives are. We're going in completely blind, and I doubt the sanity of a man who would go through so much trouble just for one 'small favor' from you."

"I agree, but we have to save Ariadne. It's my fault she's in this mess, and I'll damn well be the one to get her out of it. Can I count on your support?"

After a moment's hesitation, Eames replied, grinning slightly. "Would I still be on the phone if you didn't?"

Despite everything, Arthur smiled, amused at Eames ability to joke around in such a delicate situation. Though, part of Arthur had a feeling Eames might be just a little bit drunk right now.

"Wait, what about the architect?" Eames asked suddenly, realizing the key piece to their team left empty by the absence of Ariadne.

"Dom is handling it. We'll be meeting him and the new architect at the London Eye in 2 days, and hopefully have time to do find out a little more information on her capture before the game begins."

"Right, I'll see you there." Eames confirmed, ending the conversation with a swift tap of the button. Shoving it in his robe pocket, he started back to his room, which was now a good 200 yards down the hall.

"I just hope Dom has luck in finding an architect."

Oo0oO

"No one? You're telling me you don't have a single student you can spare that can be an architect?!" Dom yelled into the phone, his brow furrowing in anger. It was the following night after Dom had received the call from Arthur, and after calculating the time in Paris he made a call to Miles, filling him in about the situation. Being a professor at her school, Miles had already known of the young girl's disappearance, but was shocked when Dom informed him that she had been kidnapped. The story currently circling around campus was that she had simply disappeared, the last anyone had heard from her was when she went back to her dorm to sleep.

Upon looking into it, the local police were baffled as well. There was no sign that she had ever done anything but gone back to her room, everything was in place and ready for tomorrow, like she had expected to wake up and continue with her normal college routine, and her calls and email didn't show anything out of normal. As the police had summed it up, there were no reported sightings of Ariadne after 10:00 p.m. last night, when her friend Grace Parker saw her heading back to her dorm. It was like Ariadne had vanished from the face of the Earth. Of course, Dom knew this wasn't true, which was why he had gotten so mad at Miles when he said he didn't have a single promising architect in the entire school he could borrow.

"I'm sorry Dom," Miles said again, sounding genuinely apologetic, "Ariadne was one of the last students with any promise of an architect, all the rest have either moved on to higher studies elsewhere, or were too close to Ariadne to not let their regret and guilt for not saying something to her last night follow them into the dreams. There's just no one as good as her here at this school."

"I'm not looking for someone as good as her or even me. I just need _any _architect," Dom insisted impatiently, somehow keeping his voice calmly under control.

"If you needed just _any_ architect, then you wouldn't be on the phone with me right now." Miles replied coolly.

Dom bit down on his lip, reluctant to admit that the old man was right. If he needed any architect, he could do it himself and then bring Yusuf along as the third. But they needed a good architect, not just anyone but someone comparable to himself and Ariadne, if they wanted to get her back.

"Let's say you're right, that doesn't change the fact that I still need an architect, and fast," Dom breathed out, giving in to the professor's reasoning.

"If we had the time, I'm sure we could find you a great architect, for hire of course, but an architect nonetheless. Since we unfortunately do not have time however, looks like you will have to settle for a good architect."

"You say that like you already have someone in mind," Cobb noted, cautious hope finding its way into his words.

Miles sighed on the other end of the phone, as if he had been hoping Cobb hadn't noticed that. "I have an architect. Not young unfortunately, but not terribly old either. Male. He already has experience with dreamscapes, and for a hefty price I believe he will help you on this case. His skills are commendable, but still a good bit away from her level, unfortunately."

"Wait… Miles you don't mean-"

Oo0oO

**A/N: Yes, I totally did just cut off right before you find out who the architect is. Just because I'm so nice, and want you all to keep reading. **


	4. Preparations

Chapter 4: Preparations

Oo0oO

Cobb slowly pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, listening as the latch caught with a small, dull click. Instinctively, he looked around the dark, narrow hallway for a sign that he had been discovered, but the corridor retained the same empty silence that it had before. Careful not to roll his luggage along the polished wood, he crept noiselessly down the hall. A part of him felt it ridiculous for a grown man to have to sneak around his own home, but he knew it was for the best.

Inching forward at a turtle's pace, he eventually reached the kitchen, where he allowed himself to pause for a breath. The house was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from various electronic clocks or other appliances around the dining area. It was still very early in the morning, the outside sky just beginning to brighten with the first sign of daylight.

Cobb glanced at his clock; he still had a solid hour before his recommended check-in time at the airport, only a 20 minute drive from his home. Dropping his hand, Cobb grabbed his suitcase, and was just about to leave when the slow creak of an opening door stopped him in his tracks. He held his breath, praying he had imagined the sound as he stood still as a statue.

"…Daddy?" A small voice squeaked from down the hall, a mixture of fear and curiosity dominating the sound.

Cobb let out a small breath. Though his vision was currently limited to roughly 2 feet in front of him, he didn't need to see to identify the voice of his own son.

"Yeah James, it's me," he said, reaching to his left and flipping the light switch. In a second, bright white light flooded the dining room, revealing a young boy lingering at the edge of the hallway, still dressed in his blue footy pajamas. Upon seeing Cobb, however, James eagerly rushed forward, wrapping his arms protectively around his father's thigh.

"Hey buddy," Cobb smiled warmly, reaching down to return his son's hug. "What are you doing up?"

"I had a- a bad dream that you were gonna leave us again," James tumbled over the words, "So I got, I-I got up to make sure you were still here." He looked up at Cobb, smiling slightly as he confirmed that his father had not left him again.

A sharp pang of guilt pierced Cobb's heart like a bullet, and he slowly drew away from his son's embrace.

"James, there's something I need to tell you," Cobb admitted, pulling out one of the dining room chairs so he could be down on a closer level to his son.

Hearing the seriousness in his father's tone, the smile melted from James' face, and he looked up earnestly at Cobb as he spoke.

"I wasn't going to tell you and your sister but, I have to leave again. Not for as long as last time, but I do have to go," Cobb began, choosing his words carefully.

The smile had all but vanished from James' face now, to be replaced by a look of horror and sadness. "But you promised," he whimpered slightly, tears forming at the edges of his eyes, "you-you promised you wouldn't leave us again."

Cobb tore his eyes away from his son's face, attempting to stop his heart from breaking with each word.

"I know I promised, but I'll only be gone for a little bit, I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."

"That's what you said last time!" James cried, tugging on Cobb's pant leg as he struggled to withhold his tears.

Cobb flinched, as if the boy's words were slapping him hard across the face. He couldn't bear to see him cause his son so much pain; that was why he had planned to sneak out of the house silently, to avoid all of this heartbreak.

Desperate to make amends, Cobb played a risky move. "I promise I'll be back in time for your birthday." Even as he said it, Cobb regretted it instantly. James' 5th birthday was in a little less than a month, aviation theme, to which James had taken a great liking to in the recent year. 5 years of age was a big deal to James, being the younger of Cobb's two kids, James always eagerly anticipated his day of birth, and it would mean a whole lot more to him of his father was there for once.

"You promise?" James asked; hope finding its way into his broken voice.

"I promise," Cobb said with a hollow smile, sealing his fate. "But you have to promise me something first."

James' eyes lit up instantly, excited at the prospect of doing a special favor for his father.

"I need you to take care of your sister while I'm gone. She's going to miss me, and of course I'll miss her too. Make sure she knows that, and make sure she isn't sad. Can you do that?"

James nodded eagerly, determined to comply with his father's wishes in return for Cobb's speedy return.

"Now go back to bed, and remember, I'll be back soon." Cobb prodded, guiding James in the direction of his bedroom.

James began racing back to bed, but stopped abruptly half way there. Turning on his heels, he ran back and gave Cobb one last, loving hug. "I'll miss you daddy. Make sure you come back soon."

Smiling warmly, Cobb watched James race back to bed, keeping it on his face until the door closed behind his boy and he was left alone in the silence of his own mind.

"You really shouldn't be making promises you can't keep, Dom," said a rough, female voice. Appearing from the darkness, a silver haired woman about Miles' age walked into sight, a disappointed frown on her face.

"Who said I wasn't going to keep it?" Cobb questioned, standing up from his seat at the table. "For all you know, I could be back by Tuesday."

"Or not back at all," the woman retorted, disappointment evident in her tone.

Cobb snorted, brushing off her comment and quickly changing the subject. "How long did you intend on hiding in the shadows?"

"I just got here," the woman insisted, stepping further into the light and placing her pale green suitcases down in the middle of the floor. Walking over to Cobb, she placed her hands on the younger man's shoulders. They stood like that for a moment, her eyes staring deeply into his and her hands digging into his skin. "You be careful Dom, you'll be disappointing a lot more people than just James if you don't make it back," she spoke wistfully to her son-in-law.

"I will be Sophia," Cobb promised, retrieving his suitcase from the ground and rolling it over to the door. "You know what to do?"

Sophia nodded simply, "Just make sure it's _you_ who knows what you have to do. We'll be waiting for you when you come back."

Cobb nodded his goodbye to the old woman, and with that, opened the door to the dark world beyond.

Oo0oO

"Ok, let's go over everything one more time," Yusuf insisted, rearranging the various chemicals across his desk for the millionth time.

"Again? Is this really necessary?" Arthur asked impatiently, eyeing the chemist.

"Would you rather that I not confirm that you know which sedative does what, and you go mixing the wrong chemicals and send everyone to rot in Limbo?" Yusuf snapped angrily, glaring at Arthur.

After spending several hours in the lab, mixing chemicals and concocting sedatives for every possible situation, both men were near their breaking point, especially when a short power outage put them quite a bit behind schedule.

Arthur took a breath, clearing his head to avoid biting the other man's head off. "Alright, I'm sorry, really."

Yusuf eyed him for a moment, still not 100% convinced. Nevertheless, he began his list, drilling Arthur on the chemicals ruthlessly as any military officer. However, after 3 times through without a single mistake made, Yusuf lowered the pencil to the table.

"All right, that should do it," he concluded, packing all of the chemicals into a sturdy, black suitcase, sealing it tightly and handing it to Arthur. "Don't lose this. I know a chemist doesn't sound as nearly as important as an architect or an extractor, but the contents of this suitcase are second only to the PASIV." He explained, watching Arthur firmly take it in his hands.

"I understand," Arthur said earnestly, being incredibly careful not to drop the case and shatter its precious contents.

"I'm sorry I can't help you more, but I trust you'll do what must be done to get her back," Yusuf stated, his face dead serious.

"I will. We all will." Arthur confirmed, tightening his grip on the suitcase.

Oo0oO

Ariadne sat with her back against the cold metal door, staring up at the concrete ceiling in silence. She had been crying earlier, and the young architect could still feel the sting of tears in her eyes. But her grief did her little good. Because here, no one could hear her.

No one could hear her beating her fists against the concrete walls, screaming just for the sake of screaming. No one could hear her weeping, wondering where it all went wrong, and what she had gotten herself into. And no one could hear her praying, praying with every ounce of her being that the team was alright, that they were coming and that they were going to get her out soon.

…soon… How soon was soon? And was there even a chance that she was getting out? Ariadne was all too familiar with the missing person's reports on TV and on the back of milk cartons, of girls who had suddenly disappeared without a trace. Most of them were never found, and for those that were it often took _years _for the police to find them.

She didn't want to become that girl. The one on the milk carton who seemed bound for a long and successful life, only to vanish off the face of the earth. The same one whose body was found lying in a gutter a week later…

Ariadne shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees. It wasn't safe to let her mind wander when she was in this state, when she was so scared and alone. But she couldn't help it. Her thoughts were the only thing she had left at this point, for everything else had been taken from her.

The night she was taken she lost her freedom, a concept she only barely grasped until it was stripped from her. When her captor made her call Arthur she lost her courage, and from then on she could no longer stop herself from breaking down. After the last time she screamed she had lost her speech, when the man had told her to stop under the threat of physical violence. Besides a bit of innocence, her thoughts were all she still had.

And Ariadne wasn't about to lose her mind as well.

Oo0oO

In an adjacent room, a man hunched over a telephone, sitting at a lone metal table in an otherwise bare room.

"Anything new?" he asked boredly, like he already knew the answer to his own question.

"Cobb's plane left the airport 20 minutes ago; he's on his way to London now. The architect's flight boards in 4 hours, destined for the same place. Eames is still in New York, though he recently bought a large white van from a local dealership."

"And Arthur?"

"He just received the sedatives from Yusuf."

"Seems like everything is falling into place quite nicely," he said simply, talking more to himself than the man on the phone.

"Indeed sir."

The man winced at the word sir, but made no comment. "However, I don't like their plan to meet early and search for clues. I doubt they'll find anything useful, but it's best to play it safe. Kavin, could you possibly delay the architect's flight? Say maybe, about 24 hours?"

"Won't be a problem boss," came the obedient reply from the other end.

"Good," he said, then stifled a chuckle "They have no idea, do they? About what's really going on?"

"If they did, I doubt they ever would have come, sir."

Oo0oO

**A/N: And that sounds totally mysterious. Who is really pulling the strings behind this whole operation, and what do they want with Ariadne and the rest of the team? Read on to find out! **


	5. Half-truths

Chapter 5: Half-truths

Oo0oO

"He should be here by now," Arthur commented thoughtfully, sneaking a quick glance at his wristwatch to confirm his suspicions.

"I wouldn't put it past Dom to being late, he probably ran into some sort of trouble, knowing him," Eames supplied, crossing his arms. It was a fairly ugly day out, and patchy gray clouds swelling with liquid blanketing the sky. They hung low over the gray city, prompting its inhabitants to dress up in heavy raincoats for a storm that may or may not come.

Below, the streets weren't particularly crowded, and already the men could easily pick out the natives from the tourists. Regular Londoners walked at various paces along the stone streets, most of them multi-tasking like talking on a phone or fiddling with an Iphone. They all shared the same, one-note kind of fashion sense, the kind where nothing was too loud or too revealing, the polar opposite of California's Los Angeles. Tourists however were easy to pick out, they gawked at everything from public trees to the local shops, commonly complaining about the mercurial weather and horrible food. However, what made them easiest to spot was how they all seemed to flock to the eye, a giant Ferris wheel that offered wondrous aerial views of the U.K.

It was in the lee of this great attraction that Arthur and Eames awaited the arrival of Dom and the architect, growing impatient as the minutes ticked by.

"Whatever it is that's keeping him, he's wasting valuable time, ours and Ariadne's…" Arthur drifted off, scanning the distant street for the extractor.

Eames said nothing in reply, though a pang of sympathy coursed through him. Although Arthur tried not to show it, Eames could detect a layer of guilt and pain under the point man's composed complexion. He blamed himself for her kidnapping, that there was nothing he could do to save Ariadne from that man, only listen to him make strange commands in trade for her life. Cold venom pulsed through Eames' veins as he thought of that man. _If you do anything to hurt Arthur or Ariadne any more, _Eames thought silently to himself _I'll kill you with my own hands._

Suddenly, Eames was saved from his anger by a certain blonde-haired man hurrying up the street, looking flustered and ticked off.

"Took you long enough," Arthur flashed a smirk as the man approached them. However, the smile quickly faded as he noticed the absence of a fourth member. "Where's the architect?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but I have some bad news," Cobb replied, jumping straight to the point. "I didn't find out until just a few minutes ago, but his flight from Guadalajara got delayed, so he won't be able to make it."

"Ok, how long was the delay?" Arthur asked earnestly, raising an eyebrow.

Cobb took a breath, "Twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours? Are you fucking kidding me?" Eames blurted out, pausing expectantly for the punch line.

"No, unfortunately. His flight got delayed because of some big drug bust at the airport. Apparently a couple of Russians in Mexico for vacation were trying to smuggle some illegal pills in their suitcases."

"Since when do Russian's vacation in Mexico?" Eames mumbled, frowning.

Arthur brushed off Eames' comment. "Still, a twenty-four hour delay? That will bring us right up to our deadline."

"I know," Cobb confirmed, scowling in frustration.

Eames paused for a moment, and then sighed angrily, "This architect of yours better be good, Dom, I mean really good. We'll have absolutely no time to train them, or for that matter, see how they react to being in the dreamscape, period."

"He's had experience with the dream share program, before, and he's good, don't worry," Cobb defended himself, though his efforts sounded half-hearted.

Arthur eyed Dom curiously at that, but remained silent.

Meanwhile, Eames sighed. "He better be."

For a moment, there was a silence as the threat hung in the air, bitter but painfully honest. The architect, whoever "he" was, had to be good, really good, if they were going into the dreamscape at all. This was more than just some job for money or power, a human life was on the line, the life of someone who they all held deep in their hearts without any of them being consciously aware of it.

After a while, Arthur broke the silence, taking a breath. "With or without the architect, we still have a day left until our scheduled appointment with this man. And I don't intend on wasting it standing around in the middle of the sidewalk," Arthur said, referring to the large crowd parting for the tense group of men.

"Arthur's right, we should learn as much about this man as we can," Cobb agreed suddenly, turning expectantly to Arthur. This _was _his specialty, after all.

Arthur nodded, not missing a beat. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his sleek black phone, placing it in his palm and holding it out.

"Eames, see if you can track down where Ariadne's kidnapper made the call from. Regrettably, we don't know for certain if where the man made the call and where he is now is the same place, but it's worth a shot."

The forger reached for the phone. "Even with a day, I'll be lucky if I can even narrow it down to a country," Eames sighed pensively, turning the phone over in is hand as if running thorough the numbers as he spoke.

"At this point, even a country would be helpful, anything to help us narrow down their location," Arthur insisted. He turned his gaze from Eames, allowing it to rest slowly on the blonde-haired extractor. "Cobb, I want you to call Miles, ask if Ariadne ever took any special interest in coming to London, or specifically researching Big Ben. It could just be a coincidence that he had us meet him here, but I want to explore every possibility," he stated.

Cobb nodded in agreement. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go with Eames, see if anything in the conversation might be useful to his search," Arthur replied, nodding as if determining his plan as he said it.

"Ok. We can meet up here again tomorrow at 11:00, and then I can drive us all to Big Ben," Eames said decidedly, motioning to a large white van parked off in the distance.

"You bought a van?" Cobb and Arthur exclaimed simultaneously, a mixture of surprise and confusion on their faces.

"I figured we'd need a way to get around, consider neither of you blokes bothered to either bring your car or rent one," Eames replied slyly. "Now come on men, we have a lot to do today."

Oo0oO

Arthur sat quietly on the park bench, his hands clasped together atop his thighs. He sat on the very edge of his seat in anticipation, leaning out over the sidewalk as it to be ready to move at any given moment. In contrast to the previous day, this one was incredibly warm; with nearly clear skies and a golden sun peeking through the metal beams that made up the London Eye. The giant spectacle threw spidery shadows across the square where Arthur rested, making it even harder to examine the faces of those who passed.

Arthur glanced at his watch, though he already knew the time simply from counting out the seconds. He was earlier than their scheduled time, he knew, but he wanted to be the first to see the architect, and give them a piece of his mind for the embarrassing blunder of the previous day.

Despite giving themselves a full day to try to find out more about Ariadne's kidnapper, they had accomplished close to nothing. He and Eames had been unable to trace the source of the call, even to a country. Just as well, Miles had no more information than he had in his first chat with Dom, and the local police were still baffled as well. However, the day was not entirely unproductive, between the three of them; they managed to work out a few minor things.

This man, whomever he was, was most likely still in Europe somewhere, so that way he could closely monitor them and their "game" while still being elusively far enough so as not to be caught. Also, Miles confirmed that some of Ariadne's friends did notice a few suspicious men around the school, all of them "white, blonde-haired, and German looking". It wasn't much, but it was more than they had before, and even that was saying something.

Now, farther down the street he could just see Eames and Cobb walking toward him, as well as a third man whose face was blocked by Cobb's body. Arthur rose, walking a few feet forward to meet them. Eames wore an angry scowl on his face, his teeth clenched in hatred. Confused, Arthur looked expectantly at Dom.

"Arthur, meet our….new….architect," he said slowly, side-stepping so Arthur could get a clear view of his face. The man was tall, with a fairly muscular build and tanned skin. His hair came down just above his shoulders, though instead of looking girly it gave him a sort of exotic look to him, his large brown eyes reflecting the sun.

"NASH?!" Arthur exclaimed, anger and hysteria rising in his voice. "Cobb, we agreed you were going to find an architect, not him," Arthur declared, strangling his anger down into a more composed emotion.

"We needed an architect, and now we have one. I tried to find someone like Ariadne, but no one was available, so we had to work with what we had." Cobb shot back, both of the men completely ignoring the fact that Nash could hear every word they said.

"He sold us out, how can we trust him? It was thanks to him the mission was compromised, why we got mixed up with Cobal and that big mess in the first place."

"Look, I'm sorry I did what I had to," Nash interrupted, defending himself.

"We all do what we have to do, but turning your back on your teammates?" Arthur said, tearing his eyes away from the architect and back to Cobb. "You couldn't find a single other architect? We don't need perfection, we just need someone who isn't going to stab us in the back first chance he gets."

Cobb opened his mouth to speak, but Nash interrupted. "Arthur, I know neither of you like me after what I did, but unfortunately, you need me, and from what Dom's told me you don't have the time to go looking for someone better."

There was a short pause at the end of his sentence, broken when Eames landed a hard blow to the architect's eye, sending him sprawling to the ground in pain. "Gah, damn it," Nash cursed, pulling himself off the ground and clasping a hand over his wound. "What the hell was that for?"

"We don't need you, if Dom was the architect we could go on just fine without you. But unfortunately we do need _an_ architect, a good one. And we got stuck with you. We don't like you, and I assume you don't like us either, but this isn't about us, it's about saving our friend. You can either shut the fuck up and help us, and when this is all over we can just go back to the way things were before, or you can run like the coward we know you are," Eames spat, his eyes blazing with anger.

Nash blinked, startled by the man's sudden fit of rage. He turned to Cobb and Arthur for help, but found them looking expectantly back at him. They were all waiting for an answer.

Nash looked back to Eames, a mix of irritation and embarrassment flashing in his eyes as he spoke. "I'll help you," he said to the forger, refusing to be daunted by the taller man's ferocity, "but I'm only in it for the money." And with that, he turned and stalked off to the white van in the distance.

Oo0oO

The pad of paper hit the floor with a hard thud, followed by a clatter as two mechanical pencils soon followed suit. Awoken from her reverie, Ariadne turned towards the items, blinking rapidly to express her confusion.

"I have a job for you." The man began with, smiling dangerously. His grin widened as she winced. "Don't worry, it isn't hard. All you have to do is draw 10 highly complex mazes in the next 2 hours," he said simply, sliding the paper and pencils closer towards her. "You can do that, can't you?"

The petite girl gave no reply, bound to silence. Instead, she tentatively reached for notebook. It was a good quality paper, the expensive kind that she would only buy on occasions when she was splurging. Taking a pencil in hand, she tested it. There was a soft brushing noise as the lead ran across the fibers, leaving a smooth, gray line in its wake.

Despite her fear, a jolt of curiosity shot through her. What did he want with her designs? Surely he knew that she enthusiastically pursued architecture, but was it possible…could he know about her work in the dreamscapes as well? It seemed probable, though at the same time, earth-shattering. Who was this man? And what did he want with Arthur and the rest of the team?

Oo0oO


	6. The Games Begin

Chapter 6: The Games Begin

** A/N: Here it is, my super-duper long chapter to kick off the beginning of the games! :D I can't believe I just used the words super-duper. Wow. Well whatever, here's the chapter!**

Oo0oO

Eames sat rigidly behind the wheel of the van, clenching his teeth as traffic moved along at a pace slower than a snail's. It seemed the whole of London had decided to cross this one bridge, and Eames couldn't help but wonder if the old thing would collapse under the weight. It wouldn't surprise him; a few of these bridges were as ancient as big ben itself. Now that they were on the bridge, the team had a stunning view of said clock, which made even the London eye pale in comparison to its beauty. Despite being noticeably smaller than the eye, Big Ben still remained a defining symbol London, its neo-gothic style architecture remaining a timeless classic throughout the years.

Now, the face read 11:30, which gave them only a half hour before their appointment with Ariadne's kidnapper. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have been a problem, for the London eye was conveniently located only a river away from the clock. Unfortunately, the bridge traffic was putting them behind, way behind, schedule; as 10 minutes had only gotten them a third of the way across.

Despite the extra time, the team remained awkwardly silent, each of them occupying themselves in their own thoughts. Cobb, riding up front next to Eames, kept his eyes focused straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Seated directly behind Dom, Arthur stared out the window at the Thames River, his thoughts inevitably flashing back to the bridge dive during the Fischer job. Lastly, Nash occupied the seat behind Eames, his eyes flicking back and forth between the men and the window. Not a sound was uttered between the men, though it was probably for the best. These might have been the last few moments of peace they could enjoy before the mysterious 'game' began.

After many more minutes of the silence, their van finally managed to inch its way across the bridge and emerge onto the open streets. Much to their relief, the cars that once smothered them dissipated throughout the city, allowing Eames to drive at a moderate pace as they searched for a parking spot. However, most available parking spaces had already been occupied, undoubtedly by tourists eagerly snatching the opportunity to tackle two major attractions in one short trip. With time winding down frighteningly fast, they eventually managed to find a pale blue ford just pulling out of a spot. Much to the displeasure of the fellow in the car behind them-who honked multiple times in his annoyance- they eagerly swerved into the spot, squashing the van between a silver Lexus and dull green Camry.

"Could you have picked a more uncomfortable parking space?" Nash muttered to Eames as he edged open his door, sliding out onto the pavement with much difficulty.

"It was the closest we can get to the clock without paid overnight parking," Arthur cut in, saving Nash from what would have been a harsh response from Eames. "Besides, we don't really have time to look for a better space."

Nash glanced at the clock, snorting his impertinence, yet managed to keep his comments to himself.

"Right then, let's go," Cobb said, taking his tacit position as leader of the team. No one challenged him; they'd all accepted him as the head of their group long ago. Even before Cobb had abandoned his role as an architect for that of extractor, he'd always been the leader of every mission. He performed every extraction with a composed confidence, never taking unnecessary risks or failing to complete the objective. If there was ever anything to be said about Dominic Cobb, it was that he was damn good at his job.

After checking to make sure everyone had emerged from the vehicle, Cobb started off towards Big Ben, Arthur and the others in tow. The walk to the tower was thankfully short, and the team arrived in the opulent square just at the stroke of noon. The moment its large hand struck the 12, a bronze bell tolled 12 times from inside the clock, startling a flock of nesting pigeons into the vast blue sky.

At the end of the 12th chime, the men expectantly scanned the square around them. Much like the eye, it was teeming with people, the majority of which were posing for photographs of their friends beside the clock. A few milled about on the grassy area adjacent to the Thames: eating romantic picnics by the water, trying their hand at painting the clock, and other hobbies to occupy the time. However, no one stood out or tried to approach the men, if anything the people tried to avoid the suspicious group. What kind of sane people wore suits around in the middle of the day?

"Does anyone see anything?" Cobb asked the group, scanning the crowds.

"No," Arthur's reply came first, short and simple.

"Nothing," Eames sighed, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight.

"Uh…yes," came the last response, sounding high-pitched and strangled.

The team whipped around at Nash's reply, only to stop short. A man stood just off the left shoulder of the architect, a well-concealed gun shoved up against his back. The man had shaggy red hair that stopped just above his grass-green eyes, which combined with his burly stature giving him the look of an Irish pub fighter. When he spoke however, his accent was not Irish as they expected, but some mix of other languages that the team could not exactly identify.

"Glad to see you made it," the man smiled, greeting them as if they were old friends and he didn't have a gun jammed into the flesh of one of their teammates.

"I take it you're the man we're supposed to be meeting," Arthur stated the obvious, calmly holding his gaze.

"And I take it you're Arthur," he smiled again, though smiled wasn't the word for it. Sneered was more like it, for his face held a level of smug confidence and contemptment in knowing he had power over the men.

Surprised as he was that the man could call him out by name, Arthur showed no sign of this out front, and simply retained his icy composure as he looked back at the man.

"Is the gun really necessary?" Eames changed the subject, referring to the object still shoved against an uncomfortable looking Nash. "You already have one of our friends."

"Extra precaution," the man shrugged, like he himself didn't see the necessity of it either. Then he turned to the rest of the men. "I'm going to have to ask you to disarm yourselves now, unless of course you want me to shoot your friend here."

"Go ahead," Eames joked, pleased with the horrified expression that passed over Nash's face when he did so.

The man did not take kindly to Eames' joke however, and his voice took up a level of commandment. "Weapons." He repeated himself, and from seemingly nowhere, a second man appeared. Like the first, he was also adorned in a simple suit, though he was much taller and leaner than the first. He was black-skinned and bald, but held a more mysterious, hostile aura than the red-haired man. In his hands, he carried an empty leather duffel bag, which he tossed to the ground in the center of the men.

Taking the hint, the team dug various weapons out of their pockets-several handguns, a revolver, even a Swiss-army knife from Nash- all were thrown carelessly into the bag. Of course the men knew better than to trust them on their word, and did a detailed search of the architect, forger, point man, and lastly, extractor. By the end of their pat-down, each of the men had been stripped clean of everything but their clothes, even managing to pry the precious PASIV suitcase from an unwilling Cobb.

Once everything was in the bag, the black man retrieved it, gripping it tightly to his side. Now that they were disarmed, the red-haired man smiled again, moving the gun from Nash's back to his side pocket. "Follow me."

Oo0oO

The peculiar red-haired man led the group in the opposite direction from the river they had just crossed, steering them deeper into the heart of London. He said nothing, but there was a spring in his step that seemed a bit too casual in the context of their current situation. Arthur let it slide, however, as he was too busy mentally preparing himself for what was ahead.

Although they had been given instructions about where to meet and what to do, the game itself had been shrouded in mystery. They had no clue what kind of subconscious they would be going into, how the dream would be designed, or even _what _they would be doing in there. They were going in blind, something which he-as the team's point man-would have greatly preferred not to do.

Yet it was unavoidable. Since their prior research into the subject had yielded nothing, the only source of information they had were their escorts, which, Arthur was willing to bet, would have a gun to their head if they tried to say anything of use.

Thus they proceeded in silence, walking for several blocks until they approached a low-lying building that backed up to the river Thames. Light-grayish in color with a dome-shaped roof, it didn't look too unlike the one where Cobb set up their base of operations.

Leading the group up to a side entrance, the red-haired man unlocked a thick metal door there, then held it open in a motion that could almost be described as gentlemanly.

"After you," he said smoothly to the man closest behind him, which naturally was Cobb.

Glancing warily at the man, Cobb stepped inside, visibly slowing in the unfamiliar environment. Before them now was a long empty hallway, with doors stuck into the walls at uneven intervals.

"All the way to the silver door at the end, it shouldn't be locked."

Arthur saw the extractor's frown deepen for a moment, but no words were exchanged, and the whole team began to move deeper into the building. As they passed each door, the point man couldn't help but wonder if _she_ was behind one of them, screaming in a desperate attempt for them to hear her, to let her know how close she was…

"Don't get your hopes up," Eames commented from behind Arthur, reading his expression. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to put her right next door and give us a way to end this before it began."

From beside him, Nash made a small noise Arthur wasn't able to place.

By this time, the men had reached their destination, and Cobb had already disappeared into the room beyond. Pulling open the heavy metal, Arthur found himself in a short yellowish room, with four metal beds shoved up into each corner, and a fifth shoved up against the far wall. In the center, a PASIV sat on a similarly styled metal table.

"I assume you all know the procedure," Jarvis announced, motioning to the bed with a hand. He had stopped beside the open door, looking as though he had no intentions of coming inside.

Catching the problem with this image, Nash stopped on the way to his bed. "Wait, what about the subconscious?"

"Hm? Oh yes him. We have orders to keep his identity a secret, due to some history he shares with one of the men here." The man paused to look between those gathered, as if prompting them to guess who it was. "For this reason he will be hooked up to the machine once you are all subdued, and will likewise be taken out of the dream state before any of you are."

"Seems like a lot of work just to hide an identity," Eames commented vaguely.

Not missing the allusion, the red-haired man narrowed his eyes slightly. However, he ultimately let the comment pass, simply asking the men to "take their seats". Eames and Arthur ended up taking the two beds closest to the door, while Nash and Cobb took those in the far corners, leaving the middle one open for the subconscious. After each man had inserted an IV into their arm, they laid down uncomfortably on their beds.

Grinning, the red-haired man walked over to the PASIV in the center of the table, glancing to make sure they were all properly hooked up. Then, in an overly-dramatic gesture, he pushed the button. "Let the games begin."

Oo0oO

Arthur willed himself awake, groaning as he became aware if an incredible throbbing pain in his head. He blinked, struggling to remember when and how he passed out, which only proceeded to make his head hurt even more. However, after some digging, he managed to recall a small yellow room, and… a PASIV.

Suddenly comprehending, the point man shifted into a sitting position, assessing the area around him. He had been sprawled out uncomfortably on a plain wooden bench, and it creaked dangerously as he shifted his weight upon it. All around him, leafy conifers sprouted high into the sky, dappled rays in sunlight falling through them and staining the plain white sidewalk below. Although he didn't know much about London geography, something told he was, in fact, no longer in London.

Standing up, he slid his hand into his pocket, instinctively reaching for his totem. Before he could grasp it, however, a sharp ringing pierced the air. Startled, he froze, and quickly identified the source from a nearby payphone. The payphone itself looked like it had been hit by a bus (twice), and Arthur would have sworn it was out of service had the phone not been ringing. After a moment's hesitation, he strolled over to it, swiftly picking it up and placing it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello Arthur," came the reply from the other end, sounding incredibly pleased he had picked up. "It's good to hear you're doing well."

Arthur ignored this. "Didn't your men tell you? We're playing your game, there's no need for the mysterious phone calls anymore."

"Oh I heard. But there's nothing mysterious about this phone call, this is me giving you the instructions to the game!" the man exclaimed excitedly. "What's a game if its own players didn't know how to play?"

"Alright, how do we play?" He said tightly, still slightly annoyed that the man could refer to such a dangerous matter as a 'game'.

"Ok listen closely. There are several parts to this game, each one getting more challenging as we go on. Each part will have different rules, and in order to win you must follow all of the rules and complete every part. If you do all of this, you'll win, and I'll release your friend safe and sound!" he exclaimed.

"Ok, I'm ready."

"You're certainly eager. Alright listen closely. By now you've probably noticed the absence of the rest of your team, and you're new location." There was a pause, as if the man had expected Arthur to look around him and confirm this. "Now, the first part of the game is this, you and the rest of your friends have been placed at random locations throughout this city. The goal is to find each other in the next 30 minutes. The rules are you can't use cell phones or cars, and you must find each other in the next 30 minutes."

"That's not possible. We can't search an entire city in 30 minutes." Arthur declared.

"Well I suggest you make it possible, unless that is you want me to kill your friend." The man said all of this in a nonchalant tone; as if taking a person's life was something he did every day.

"…Fine. When does this game start?"

"So you will play? Good. The game starts right…now."

Oo0oO

The man impatiently paced the room, the black phone jammed hard against his ear as he waited for his call to be picked up. Just before the last ring, there was a sharp click, and a voice came through the other end.

"I assume you call bearing good news," a voice on the other end said, more as a statement than an actual question.

"Yes I just came out of the dreamscape. They've all been given the instructions to the game and are beginning the first portion now."

"Good, and what about the architect?"

"They don't suspect anything," the man grinned, "your plan worked flawlessly."

"Don't flatter me," the voice snapped back at him suddenly, "I warned you, do not underestimate them. The moment you do, they'll get the jump on you and your men, and then this will all be over before it even starts."

"Ye-yes sir," he stuttered, his veil of confidence slipping away from his faster than he would have imagined possible. And with that, the line went dead.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Alright technically the first game didn't begin here, but I did introduce you to my two minions. The next chapter will begin with them in the dreamscape, and the game really **_**will**_** begin. **

**One thing before I leave you all though, the subconscious who was said to share a past with one of the team members is**___**not **_**the same man who kidnapped Ariadne. This man just coincidentally happened to know one of the team members from the military program that trained them all to use to PASIV. (I mean c'mon guys there can't actually be that many of these programs out there)**

**So yeah. Please review! Thanks to all the readers! **


	7. A Faceless City

Chapter 7: A Faceless City

**A/N: Not a very action-filled chapter, more reflective and dramatic than anything. But the next chapter is going to be epic, so be prepared. Hope you all enjoy. **

**Times and POVs that events take place are listed at each transition. (A.k.a. the Oo0oO symbol)**

**Disclaimer: The title for this chapter was inspired by something my friend Wolfie said to me.**

Oo0oO

_**29:59 Arthur**_

Arthur nearly dropped the phone in his surprise, not bothering to put it back on its dock as he raced down the sidewalk. As he did so, he almost thought he could hear a cold laughter taunting him from the dangling receiver. Though he wanted nothing more to retrieve the phone and give the man a piece of his mind, he knew he had to get moving. The clock was ticking, and if he had any chance of meeting up with the others before the anointed time, he would have to move, fast. Mentally cursing the inability to use cars or phones, he sprinted down the path.

Oo0oO

_**24:30 Eames**_

Eames spun around the corner, cursing loudly when he came face to face with a large, gray brick wall. The whole city was like a fucking maze; scratch that, like a Labyrinth. Every turn yielded a dead end, or a street he'd already passed, and his frustration kept building with each false turn. He had no idea how much time he had left, or where the others could possibly be. The only thing he knew for sure, he was going to kill the architect who made this damned thing. Smiling slightly at the thought that it might be Nash, Eames began to retrace his steps.

Oo0oO

_**20:30 Arthur**_

The point man took a deep breath of air, seeing thankfully that he'd managed to make it to the heart of the city. He'd lost a lot of time in the park, whose trees seemed to corral him in circles back to where he started. Nevertheless he'd finally managed to find a break in the foliage, which he eagerly took to the edge of the city.

The metropolis itself had been a stunning sight, something like a mix of Chicago and San Diego. However, despite the gleaming skyscrapers and smooth, flat streets, the whole town had a feeling of emptiness. There were people, but they lacked life or feeling, and the whole town was surreally calm. This was one of the tiny flaws of the dream world, the perfection. It was the perfection that lured you in; imprisoned your mind with its promises. But if you knew how to look, it was also the thing that made the dream so wrong.

Standing at the corner of an intersection, these thoughts subconsciously ran through Arthur's head. It was only a matter of time before the projections decided to do more than just glare at him, and he preferred to be far away by that point. Adjusting his tie, Arthur ran down a street.

Oo0oO

_**16:13 Nash and Cobb**_

"How the hell does this guy expect us to find Arthur and Eames in 30 minutes?" Nash inquired irritably, reclining against the side of the building.

"At least we've already managed to find each other," Cobb said in a flat voice, surveying the long narrow street. At his best guess, this street cut right through the center of the city, for it was wider and more densely packed than any of the ones they had passed on their way here. But he couldn't be certain; this was a dream after all.

As if suddenly noticing Nash's lack of effort, he scoffed over his shoulder, "We'd probably be getting a lot more done if you weren't wasting time lounging around."

"I don't see you doing anything much more useful," Nash spat back, though he silently moved to a standing position when Cobb returned his attention to the street. As he did so, he suddenly noticed the piercing glares of by-standers as they strolled passed, murderous looks flashing in their eyes.

"We shouldn't stay here," he said aloud to Cobb, drawing his attention to the projections.

Mildly surprised, Cobb shot Nash an angry glare. "I thought I told you not to change anything."

"I haven't!" Nash defended himself, lifting his hands to show his innocence. "It's probably the subconscious, whomever's it is."

Cobb remained silent, releasing the man from his glare and looking back down the street. "We should get moving, staying in one place doesn't seem like a great option now. Come on." He started down the street.

Resisting the urge to declare that that was what he had just said, Nash followed close behind.

Oo0oO

_**11:57 Eames**_

He clenched his fist tightly, slowing his pace to that matching the rest of the crowd. Eames tried his best to look nonchalant; he even considered stopping in a local bar and grabbing a few drinks. But his efforts were to no avail, he could still see them out of his peripheral vision. They moved smoothly through the crowd, which seemed to almost part way for them as they passed. At the surface, they looked like regular businessmen, even sporting the classic blazer and suitcase. But they were nowhere near the commercial district. His current location was what was known to some as "the bad side of town" where the colossal buildings were replaced by run-down factory warehouses.

After walking a bit more, the forger was able to identify 6 men; too many to take on alone, even for someone of his slightly bigger stature. Though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, Eames kept walking, watching in anticipation as they slowly drew closer and closer.

Oo0oO

_**11:20 Arthur**_

Arthur increased his stride, a deep frown plastered across his face. He was beginning to worry. According to his watch, nearly two-thirds of their time was gone, the rest slipping away just as rapidly. He still hadn't run into anyone from his team-even Nash would be a welcomed relief at this point. But knowing his luck, he couldn't be so fortunate.

Oo0oO

_**10:38 Nash and Cobb**_

"What happened to laying low?" Cobb hissed angrily at Nash, referring to the security alarms blazing from a low-roofed gray building a ways down the street.

Nash rolled his eyes, holding out a small, black handgun. "Do you want it or not?"

Cobb only hesitated a slight moment before taking the pistol, loading in a round and shoving the weapon into his side belt. "I hope you know we can't just run through the city guns blazing until we find them," Cobb pointed out harshly.

"Well at least we won't be going at it unarmed," Nash retorted, sick of having to defend himself. He paused for a moment, before his voice turned grave. "I'm worried about these projections. They're hostile but they're not… attacking. Even when I stole the guns. It's like they're…

"Smarter," Cobb cut in, his voice taking on a similar grim tone to it. "This isn't a standard subconscious, but it's not militarized either. I'm willing to bet a different extractor did something to the mind, but what…even I don't know."

"So, do we even have a chance here?" Nash demanded, a hint of worry creeping into his tone.

Cobb didn't answer immediately, in fact he completely ignored the question altogether.

Oo0oO

_**10:38 Eames**_

Eames didn't even have to turn around to be aware of their presence; he could feel them there, standing as a human blockade between himself and the opening back to the street. He turned around slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would result in a bullet impaling itself into his skull.

The forger smirked as he faced the men. He'd miscounted. Instead of 6 there were 8, half of which were armed with a pistol trained unwaveringly at his heart. Eames sighed, cracking his knuckles to relive his tension. The guns followed his every movement.

"Shall we begin?"

Oo0oO

_**10:26 Arthur**_

He heard the commotion from half way down the street, the gunshots slicing through the dense air like a knife. A current of fear shot through the point man, not fear for himself, but a cold shock of hope and guilt. He rushed forward.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Will Arthur arrive on time to help Eames? Is he already too late? Where are Nash and Cobb during all this? And what is the secret of this subconscious? Read on to find out!**


	8. Pain Like Fire

Chapter 8: Pain like Fire

**A/N: Here is the chapter I promised! Again I apologize for the delay, but I'm sure you will not be disappointed with this chapter. Read and enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Don't know if this needs a disclaimer, but the whole elevator scene was inspired by a scene from the movie "Tower Heist". Just a side note, if you haven't seen it, you totally should. **

Oo0oO

_**10:20 Arthur and Eames**_

The first bullet hit him square in the shoulder, and the forger winced as the shell tore through his flesh. In spite of the pain, however, Eames felt the slightest bit of relief. A shoulder wound was survivable, or at least, it shouldn't kill him before this stupid game ended. And survivable was all he needed. Faking to his left, the other bullets riddled the wall behind him, and he lunged forward at the shooters.

Fortunately, his determination seemed to catch them off guard, and it was a few moments before they started fighting back. Twisting like a snake, Eames used a combination of combat skills and brute force to fight off the men. He bobbed and weaved like a boxer, his fists flying through the mass, and more than once he heard the satisfying crunch of bone as they met their mark.

But his exhilaration soon faded, and in an instant they mob was on him. Infuriated by his strength, they latched themselves onto his arms, pulling him down to his knees. Eames struggled desperately to free himself, for he knew the moment they had him pinned they could easily kill him. Writhing in their grasp, two bangs suddenly split through the air. The first bullet whizzed just to the left of the forger's ear, piercing another one of the men and causing him to drop to the floor. The second however skimmed the edge of his left thigh, and another shock of pain shot through him.

At this rate, Eames knew his next wound would most likely be fatal, and he fought urgently to delay his death. That was when he heard a scream of pain, and it was surprisingly not his own. It did however provide the necessary distraction for Eames to get back on his feet, and a heartbeat later he was greeted by a familiar face.

"Took you long enough to get here," Eames welcomed the point man, the two men aligning themselves back to back in the center of the remaining goons (there were only 5 by this point).

"I figured I should drop in," Arthur said casually, managing a tired smirk. With renewed energy, the two men lunged forward.

Oo0oO

_**Nash and Cobb 7:43**_

Cobb ducked behind the water tank, listening as the spray of bullets lodged themselves in its hard surface. He took a breath. Moving his attention away from the gunfire, he yelled over his shoulder.

"Tell me you're almost done," he called urgently to Nash, loading in another clip. "I won't be able to hold them off for much longer."

"I'm going as fast as I can," Nash retorted, not taking his eyes off the cables he was working with. "Just draw their fire for a little longer."

Clenching his teeth, Cobb peered around the cooler, jamming his finger against the trigger and taking out another projection. Not a moment later, he was forced to take cover again as their superior weapons crashed into the tank. "Any time now Nash."

For a moment, Cobb's appeal went unanswered, and the words died on the air as he said them. Before he could call out again, however, Nash hurriedly responded.

"…There! I think I've got it," he announced, stepping back to view his handiwork. Pushing the large yellow button, he waited and listened. After about 10 seconds of silence, Nash pressed the button again. Nothing happened.

"It's jammed," Nash confirmed, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm not sure how long we have though. Probably 10 minutes at the most. 10 seconds at the least."

"I don't care how long we have; I just want to know if we can make it," Cobb snapped, tensely leaning back against the cooler.

Nash hesitated, examining the knotted cables and smashed control panel. "If we move now… maybe."

"Maybe works."

Not wanting to waste a moment, Cobb dashed over from his position. He had barely left his cover when the entire cooler was engulfed in a fiery explosion, the impact of which knocked both Cobb and Nash off their feet.

Oo0oO

_**Arthur and Eames 5:20**_

5 minutes after it had begun, the fight was over, a mass of bodies lying in the now bloodied alleyway. Only two people stood alive, one bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound, the other limping from what he determined to be a broken leg. The bleeder slumped exhaustedly against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position. As he did so, a smeared track of blood ran down the wall behind him.

"Eames you have to get up, we need to find the others," Arthur said between breaths, though he was just as eager to collapse on the ground.

Eames shook his head. "I…can barely…breath. How…do you…expect me to…walk?" he questioned, his breathing even more strained than Arthur's.

"I'll carry you," the point man insisted, helping the man to his feet.

"You're insane… if you think… you're carrying me with….that leg of yours." Eames choked out.

"Well then I must be insane. Now come on, don't make me take your full weight," Arthur replied demandingly, though he couldn't help but smile at the forger. Limping badly and leaning on one and other for support, the two men stumbled out of the alley.

Oo0oO

_**Nash and Cobb 7:00**_

Cobb slowly pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he became aware of a high-pitched buzzing noise in his right ear. He felt like he had just been hit by a bus, and he was sure he looked it too, but fortunately he was mostly unharmed. A few second-degree burns on the lower part of his leg (which stung like hell, mind you) and a massive migraine, but he could still walk.

Meanwhile Nash had also pulled himself to his feet, and was brushing himself off when Cobb came over. Thankfully he didn't bother asking if Cobb was ok or not (the painfully awkward way he walked said enough) but simply motioned to the shaft.

"You start down first; I'll be down after you in a minute."

"Right," the architect nodded, before disappearing into the darkness of the shaft.

Cobb silently watched Nash descend, how he carefully used both the suspension ropes and the support beams to proceed downward. But the man was watchful never to let the cables take on his full weight, lest the elevator start up again and crush his fragile human body.

After about 30 seconds of watching and mentally bracing himself, Cobb stepped into the shaft. It only took a moment for the nausea of height to sink in, and Cobb fought hard to subdue it. _Fear is only in the mind, _he reminded himself, cautiously lowering himself down to the next beam. The shaft was hot and stuffy, the enclosed air threatening to suffocate him as he proceeded downward. Sucking in a breath, Cobb slowly began to descend, grunting slightly as his injured leg banged on an outward sticking beam.

"You ok up there?" Nash called from below.

"I'm fine, just keep moving," Cobb responded through clenched teeth.

With that, the two men continued their descent in silence, besides the occasional sound as they adjusted their grip on the beams. A few more precious minutes slipped away and Nash had made it to the bottom floor, with Cobb just a few floors above him. Despite a few minor slip-ups, the climb had gone fairly smoothly, both men even daring to use the support cables to move down faster. But now, within 30 feet of the bottom floor, there was a terrible creaking noise.

"What was that?" Cobb asked, freezing.

Before Nash could reply, another loud bang echoed off the walls.

"Cobb, get out of the shaft!" Nash screeched desperately, the last of his words being cut off by a series of loud grindings.

There was an ominous sound from above as the support cables began giving way, and then eventually a loud _snap_ as they broke altogether. At this time, Cobb was making a mad rush to the floor, half falling, half climbing his way down the shaft. Then suddenly, there was a roar as the elevator began to fall, easily doubling Cobb's own speed.

Twenty feet from the floor, Cobb allowed himself to drop down the rest of the way, crying out in pain as his feet connected with the hard metal below. Extending his hand from the safety of the lobby, Nash yanked the older man inside, and the men tumbled out of the way of the falling object. Not a moment too soon, for not even a second had passed before the elevator crashed down, shaking the entire building with the impact.

"Jesus Christ," Cobb sputtered, looking in horror at the devastation. For a moment the men just sat there, too shocked to move. Eventually however, they hoisted themselves to their feet, determined to find Arthur and Cobb before time ran out.

With no idea as to how much time, if any, they had left, the men started out of the building.

Oo0oO

**A/N: The epic conclusion to the first part of the game comes in the next chapter! Please read and review!**


	9. Countdown

Chapter 9: Countdown

Oo0oO

_** 4:46 Arthur and Eames**_

The two men trudged slowly through the throng of people, carving a path through the masses as they attempted to progress down the street. It wasn't easy; the combination of Arthur's broken leg and Eames' wounds slowing them down considerably. For the hundredth time, Arthur cursed this dammed game, swearing as another projection bumped into his broken leg. Well, "bumped into" isn't really the right way to describe it; it was more like "kicked". Either way, Arthur clenched his teeth through the pain, regretting their decision not to set it.

Despite everything, Arthur managed a half-smile. He could only imagine how he must have looked in his current condition: his business suit tattered and dirty from the fight, his hair a disheveled mess, and his leg left near useless from the break.

Turning towards Eames, he saw the forger didn't look much better off, the blood flow from his shoulder tainting his shirt crimson. As he thought more on it, Arthur nearly stopped in his tracks. The blood stain had spread at an alarming rate since he had last looked at it back in the alley. Before, it had covered an area about the size of a softball, lingering in an uneven circle around his left shoulder. Now, it had easily doubled, and Arthur could guess that the wrap they had applied underneath his shirt had been thoroughly soaked with blood.

"We have to get back to the others. Soon," Arthur said gravely, more to himself than anyone.

Eames could only nod, for he feared that if he opened his mouth to speak, he would finally lose hold of his composed façade and collapse.

Oo0oO

_**4:07 Nash and Cobb**_

Cobb slowly ventured out from the shadow of the building, crouching low to the ground to keep from being seen. The whole street had fallen to deadly silence, held still as if it were anticipating something. Besides the ones parked on the curb, not a single car drove past, nor did a single projection grace the sidewalk. It was as if the entire street had been deserted, save for himself and Nash. Sighing, he returned to the darkness, where Nash stood tensely with gun in hand.

"It's empty," he informed the architect, his voice flat.

"Then why don't you sound happy?" Nash replied, tightening his grip on the weapon.

"I've been in this business long enough to know when something's not right, and this is one of those times. The only street connected to the building we escaped from wouldn't just conveniently be empty, the projections would have known we'd come down this way and then made a plan to attack us from here too."

"So it's a trap," Nash scowled, backing up against the building, "they wanted to lure us down the elevator shaft all along. And then as soon as we got to the bottom, they could corner us and kill us."

"It's not out of the question," Cobb replied in an even tone, grimly looking out on the street. "The question is, though, how exactly they intend on doing it."

Nash was silent for a moment, considering. "Could be anything really… or nothing. Maybe we're just looking too deep into this. Maybe for once we actually got lucky."

Cobb gave him a hard stare. "I don't do lucky." Motioning for Nash to hold his position, the extractor moved to the edge of the alley, surveying the area once more.

Oo0oO

_**3:04 Arthur and Eames **_

Eames had never heard his heart beat so irregularly before. There was no beat to it, no rhythm, simply a series of random pumps as his heart desperately tried to circulate the blood through his body and to his essential organs. With each passing moment, a wave of pain ripped through his body, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. Yet he struggled through its icy waters, fought so desperately to keep his head above its murky blackness. He was losing way too much blood, way too fast. Arthur seemed to realize this, for at the very next bench he stopped, allowing for Eames to half sit, half fall down onto it.

"What are you gonna… do cpr on me?" Eames managed to choke out, smiling.

"This isn't funny Eames," Arthur retorted, though he silently admired the forger's ability to joke around.

"Well… then what's you plan? I take it you don't intend to just sit here…and watch me slip into limbo…or whatever."

Arthur was silent for a moment, looking around at his surroundings for inspiration. There was no sign of Cobb or Nash, and Arthur silently prayed they had met up and were on their way here now. If not, they had no chance of winning this, and Ariadne would be lost forever. He was still looking around, when something caught his eye.

Eames followed his gaze. "You can't be seri-(cough)-ous," the forger said, the humor finally leaving his face.

Oo0oO

_**3:40 Nash and Cobb**_

"Snipers?" Nash choked, staring blankly out at the street.

Cobb nodded slowly, his eye flashing to several nearby rooftops. "They probably sent their men ahead while we dealed with the elevator, so they could catch us by surprise on the way out. Thankfully there's not a lot of them, I don't think they expected us to notice."

Nash made a disgruntled noise. "Is there any chance we could get past them on foot?"

"Doubtful. This subconscious is clearly military trained, so if we step in their line of sight then we're done for sure."

"What if we grab a car?" the architect motioned to one of the nearby vehicles, "hot-wiring it wouldn't be a problem, before this whole dreamscape thing I used to work as a mechanic."

Cobb hesitated for a moment as if considering the idea, then shook his head. "There's a chance it'll work, but the odds are still against us. Those windows aren't bulletproof, and one shot on either of us and we're done for."

"Then what can we do?" Nash asked, sounding tense.

Again, Cobb hesitated, observing their surroundings. Even for him, there wasn't much to work with. There were three abandoned cars close enough that they could access without exposing themselves, anything in the building they had just come from, and besides that only what they had on their persons. Under normal circumstances they could have easily taken out the snipers, but with their current time crunch that didn't seem to be an option. The only thing they could do was run, but there was no way to guaranteed method of success.

After another moment of contemplation, Cobb suddenly had it.

"Nash, exactly how many years did you spend as a car mechanic before you got into the dream business?"

The man looked startled. "Cobb, you understand that I wasn't actually a _mechanic_ mechanic…"

The extractor waved off the statement. "It doesn't matter what type of mechanic you were. I just wanna know exactly how good you are."

"I could probably take apart anything earlier than a 2008 model and put it back together in my sleep."

"Perfect. Then I assume you know how to rig a gas pedal to work without a driver?"

"Yeah but," Nash paused, putting the pieces together. "You wanna fake our deaths."

The extractor nodded, before a small smirk slid onto his face. "It won't be the most glorious of ways to go, but it'll get the job done."

Nash returned the expression. "So you want them to snipe the fake driver, and have the car lose control and kill everyone inside? It's doable I suppose, but do you think they'll buy it?"

"If we have intentions of winning this game, they'll have to."

Oo0oO

_**Arthur, Eames, Cobb, and Nash **_

__The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of everything else around it, as the vehicle swerved through traffic and deeper into the heart of the city. Gripping the handlebars for dear life, Arthur struggled to gain control of the cycle.

_ "It's just…like riding a bike,"_ Eames had told him, breathlessly instructing him on the steering, brakes, and ignition. Just like riding a bike. Yeah, if that bike went 80 miles per hour with an engine that sounded like a puppy being mauled. Of course it was easy for Eames to talk so casually about it; he had once owned a bike in his college years. But Arthur had always preferred four wheels to two, as a half-conscious Eames could clearly see from his position behind the point man.

Thankfully, Arthur finally seemed to be getting the hang of it, just in time for Eames to notice a large, black Expedition closing in on their tail. Arthur noticed it too, and was about to switch lanes when a similar car pulled up on his left. He looked to his right, but found he was at the edge of the street.

_They're boxing us in_, he cursed to himself, watching in horror as the cars began closing in on them.

"On my mark," he heard a weak voice in his left ear. "Brake to your right."

"What?"

"….…now."

Startled, Arthur slammed down the brakes, pulling the handlebars to the right with all his strength. The wheels squealed in protest to the sudden change of direction, and the bike, and its riders, went flying to the right.

….

Eames hadn't expected there to be pain in limbo. Or maybe, he wasn't in limbo at all. Maybe everything that had happened had occurred in the real world, and he was dead. It would explain the pain. And the darkness. It would also explain to silence, the all-too-stillness of the world. So this was death. Just eternal suffering in this lightless place. But. Why was he hearing a voice? Was it the voice of god? Or the devil? No, he recognized the voice. It kept saying his name. Over and over.

Now there were more voices too they were calling his name, but they were also saying another name too. Arthur. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't obey him. Try as he might he couldn't seem to be able to move.

They had stopped calling Arthur's name. Now it was just his. Eames. Eames. Eames. Eames. Eames. Eames. Eames. Eames. Over and over.

_ I…have…to…open…my…eyes. I….have…to...see. I..._

….

Eames blinked slowly, groaning in unimaginable pain. He was amazed he was still conscious, he probably only had a few seconds left, but he was conscious. He felt pain, so much pain, everywhere. So much. But it didn't matter. Because they won.

Oo0oO

**A/N: So glad to be done with this chapter, it took me like 5 hours to write, and was not at all aided by my horrible writer's block. **

**Please read and review!**


	10. The Measure of a Man

Chapter 10: The Measure of a Man

Oo0oO

Arthur's eyes flashed open, and he blinked as he found himself staring up at a dismal, gray ceiling. He slowly raised himself to a sitting position, finding thankfully that his pain had disappeared with the waning of the dream. Now, there was only a slight pinch where the IV dug into his vein, which he swiftly plucked out and let drop to the floor.

"Glad to see you're awake," the extractor commented from across the room. The blonde-haired man was lounging quietly on an uncomfortable looking hospital bed; the kind that was made of sharp metal rods welded carelessly together in under a minute. Instead of an actual mattress, they had been given a thin, foam-like substance to lie on, which reminded Arthur more of a cat bed than a resting place for people.

"I haven't kept you waiting have I?" Arthur replied half-jokingly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Only a minute. Though I expect we'll be joined by the others soon." He replied, looking over to the two still unconscious men.

As if on cue, a slight stirring sound came from the other two beds in the room. In almost perfect unison, both Cobb and Nash eased themselves up, nodding quietly to the other members of the team. Besides the sound of rustled mattresses and shifted feet, no word was exchanged between the group, as the thought that was on everyone's mind lingered in the shadowy corners of the room. So silently it stalked amongst the men, skirting ever so close and teasing them with an equal mix of hope and fear.

Unsurprisingly, it was Nash who finally gave in; crossing his arms and leaning tensely against the wall as he spoke. "So… did we win?"

His words sliced through the air like a knife, all of their fears and doubts surfacing into one, simple question. _Did they win?_

The room gave no indication to either victory or loss, looking mostly unchanged from the team's last memory there. Besides the now slightly disheveled beds and the IV attachments that lay on the floor, it was hard to tell that anything had occurred in here at all. It was this fact that gave the team their anticipation, that itch to know whether their efforts were in vain. Yet, again, each team member kept a straight face, no one wanting to propose an answer to a question they themselves couldn't answer.

The men ended up sitting like that for a solid minute before some sort of answer was provided, when they became aware of the sound of a key turning in their locked door. All four of them immediately turned their attention to the sound of the noise, just as the red-haired man from earlier entered. He was flanked off his left side by a short woman they had not seen before.

The woman had a pale, pasty complexion and ice-blue eyes, and had a bony-like build that gave her the overall appearance of a snake. Her expression also seemed to mimic that of the reptile, and was every bit as cold and heartless. Of the two, only the woman appeared to be armed, and held a sleek pistol in her hands.

"Long time no see," the red-haired man opened casually, looking out lazily over the group. "Did you all enjoy the game?" He paused in anticipation of an answer, but was met only with harsh stares.

"Go to hell," Nash growled, barring his teeth.

The man half-smiled. "I'll take that as a 'no' then. That's too bad. And after the boss went through so much trouble designing it, you'd think some people would be able to appreciate it at least a little bit."

Arthur saw the forger's jaw set. "I don't appreciate anything designed to be played for a young girl's life."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. Though, maybe if you had all kept better tabs on your affairs, then we wouldn't have had to result to kidnapping in the first place."

There was a beat, and then suddenly, Eames had lunged across the room at the red-haired man, using his momentum to slam him up against the wall. The forger's hand pinned down the man by the neck, and Eames felt the man's Adam's apple tighten against his palm. The red-haired man gasped out in surprise and anger, and began clawing at Eames' hand in a desperate struggle for air. But it was of no use, the forger had every advantage, and he had no intention of letting the man go.

For about 20 seconds, there was a painful, awful silence; as the man writhed and choked under Eames' grip. No one moved to stop him; no one could find the strength to do anything but watch the horrible scene unfold. Eames, standing rigidly and mercilessly over the man, the man with a look so full of fear in his eyes. Then finally, a voice spoke up.

"What will come of you killing him?" the woman said through closed teeth, in a deep, rutty accent that sounded almost German. "Yes, it may soothe your anger, but will it save your friend? Will you taking his life make you a better man? I know how little you think of my boss, for stealing your friend, but honestly, if you kill him, what makes you any better than him?" She hissed her words evocatively at the forger, no hint of fear or sadness tainting her tone. "I am not begging you to let him live, he is a fool anyhow. Kill him if you want, in fact, it would only make my job that much easier. I only wish to warn you."

Eames was shaking now, though out of doubt or rage it was hard to tell. He still had not removed his hand from the man, who by this point was beginning to sink weakly to the floor.

"Eames," Arthur said fervently, his voice almost pleading.

The forger began to falter, and then, he stepped back, watching as the man crumpled up on the floor and coughed wretchedly. Shakily, Eames took a step back, his eyes wide with terror and shock at the thought of what he had almost done. On instinct, Arthur stepped forward to go comfort him, but was held back by a look from Cobb.

Meanwhile, the woman was silently observing her partner, a look of disgust rather than pity registering on her face. "Jarvis you idiot," she spat, turning away from him. "This is what happens when you let in fools who only work for the money. Pathetic."

She turned her attention back to the team, her eyes still cold and merciless as before. "Our purpose here was to inform you; you all completed the first part of the game. The details regarding the next part of the game are in this envelope." Here she paused to dig into her jacket pocket and whipped out a thin, white packet. Taking it in hand like a boomerang, she flicked it across to the team, where it skittered across the floor until stopping in the in front of Cobb.

Not waiting for them to pick it up, she turned and left, half-dragging, half-pulling Jarvis behind her. The moment they had disappeared around the corner, the door slammed shut.

Once again, the men were left alone in the silence, though this time their thoughts were all their own. Cobb was the first to move, walking over to the center of the room to pick up the envelope. It was a standard shipping mail, the kind used practically worldwide in the means of envelopes. Using his thumb, he managed to pry it open, revealing a simple, typed letter.

"If you're reading this, you have successfully completed the first part of the game," Cobb began, briefly looking up at the other men before back down at the paper. "If you wish to continue playing, you are to gather at the Taj Mahal, in Agra, India in three days' time. At 12:00 noon we will commence with the next part of the game. If you fail to arrive on time, or fail to participate in the next part of the game, you lose." Cobb lowered the letter, signifying that there was nothing else, or at least nothing more of importance, on paper.

"India…?" Nash said after a pause, the atmosphere still tense enough that regular conversation felt wrong. "Why would he send us all the way to Agra? I mean, if this guy wants us to play his game so bad, why is he stretching this out so much?" Nash asked.

"More than likely it's to help keep his identity a secret," Arthur answered quietly, still shaken by Eames rage. " It's probably a good guess that this guy is known for being on the wrong side of the law, and kidnapping Ariadne wouldn't help with his notoriety. He needs the time it takes for us to travel to set up all of his pieces."

Nash said nothing, though he mentally admitted that Arthur's theory made sense.

There was a short pause, before Cobb spoke up, taking his natural position as leader. "Come on," he spoke, his voice sounding dry and rough. "We should get going. We're going to need all the time we can get if we want to get a flight to India in the next three days."

The men nodded in agreement, moving to follow the extractor out. Arthur, bringing up the back, noticed that Eames hadn't moved, and was instead standing rigidly back in the room.

"Eames?" Arthur tested, his voice coming out strained. He'd seen Eames kill plenty of people before, both in the dreamscape and in the real world. He'd seen how ruthless the forger could be when he needed to, pure brutality taking over when they found themselves in life or death situations. But what he hadn't seen was this…fear. The fact that Eames had lunged for the man (Jarvis?) was bad enough. But to see him unable to stop himself…

"Yeah," the forger responded breathily, not meeting his gaze. Slowly, Eames willed his body to move, dragging himself out after Arthur. Even from out in the hall, the point man could see the man's hands curled into tight fists, and pushed firmly against his sides. Eames's knuckles were white.

Oo0oO

Ariadne struggled desperately in the man's grasp, crying out as his hands stayed planted firmly around her stomach. Suddenly, one of his hands released their grip on her stomach and wrapped around her mouth, cutting her cry short.

"Shhh, shhh." He soothed, nearly crushing the petite girl with the strength of his grip.

She screamed again as he began pulling her back against the wall, but it was no use, as her voice was stifled into a mere whisper. She tried again, but still found her attempts fruitless. Nevertheless, she tried once more to shake him off, but he held firmly, until eventually she had exhausted herself into falling weak in his arms.

"See that's better," he cooed, and she began to shake fearfully at the sound of his voice. "There's no need to be so scared, anyways. I am doing you a favor."

Ariadne began to tremble slightly at the thought of the sort of _favor_ he had in mind, and released another stifled cry.

"Shhh. Just…listen."

She did listen, and her heart stopped as she heard the sound of a door opening, followed by the echoing sound of footsteps in a hallway. Judging by the rhythmical pattern of the steps, she could tell there were several people walking, men by the sound of it. Their pace was slow… tired almost.

But Ariadne didn't understand what she was hearing, or why it should matter to her. That was, until she heard it.

"Eames."

At this she stopped dead, her blood turning cold. She knew that name, and moreover, she knew that _voice._ Her heart fluttered. That voice. It was Arthur.

Seized by sudden desperation, she began to thrash violently in his grip, momentarily surprising him and managing to move a bit, but he soon grasped her again, shoving a clothed hand down her throat to silence her.

Someone exhaled, "Yeah" then there was a slow shuffling noise, and the footsteps started up again.

Despite the shortness of the conversation, that voice too she recognized, undeniably as Eames. As insane as it sounded, the team was _here_. Right here, where she had been hidden away in the darkness for so long. And all she had to do was get their attention, and this whole thing would be over.

Again, she tried desperately to force sound out of her throat, to escape the man's grip and make some sort of noise to tell them she was here. But he held her tightly, and she sobbed without sound as she heard Cobb speak.

"Are you two coming?" his voice was hollow-sounding and hesitant almost. But, most alarmingly, he sounded farther away, as if he had already walked right past her.

"Yeah," It was Arthur who answered, and a whole chorus of footsteps began to move away from her.

With renewed energy and hope, she fought with all her might to move, to scream, to do anything to get them to hear her. Her friends, her freedom, were just outside the door, the tiny metal door behind which she had been sealed for 5 days. There was only a single, metal wall between her and the people she held dearest to her. Yet they could not see her. They could not hear her. They did not know.

She cried and sobbed uncontrollably as she heard the footsteps fade completely, and then eventually the sound of a van starting up and taking off. Only then did the man finally release her, where she crumpled, broken, to the floor.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Kind of a dark chapter. Okay, so actually a really dark chapter. Eesh. I feel really bad for poor Ari but… I had to. Next chapter the team flies to India. Review?**


	11. Break

Chapter 11: Breaking Point

**A/N: I'm back! This chapter took me a while to write because of horrible, random stomach aches I've been having recently, making me want to curl up in a ball on the floor much more than write anything. I'm afraid I may be coming down with something… but regardless I will keep writing. **

**This chapter is mostly fluff, I only put it in after the edit just to give the story a sense of transition and to sort of "unite" the team. **

Oo0oO

The team held their reflective silence for the rest of the night, stretching it far into the frigid morning that they boarded their flight for Agra. The silence was not absolute of course, they still exchanged half-hearted conversations when they found it necessary, but other than that not much was said between them. Even Nash seemed to be dragged into the void, choosing to keep to himself and staring busily out the rectangular plane window.

They did not feel that they were imprisoned by the quiet; rather, they allowed themselves to stay submerged in it. It was the tide of their misgivings, of their doubts and regrets. After everything that had happened after the first part of the game, a sense of realism had begun to sink in. They weren't doing a job; there was no special reward for completing something that no one else could do. This was, as much as they hated to admit it, a game. A game with high stakes and horrible odds, where they stumbled along an unfamiliar game board playing by rules designed to make them lose. A game where the life of another was held in the balance, where even fighting with everything they had might not be enough to save her.

These dark thoughts lapped hungrily at the shores of Arthur's mind, their dark tide staining the sandy beaches black. However, Arthur made no move to dismiss these thoughts, allowing the waves to slowly climb the beaches with each roaring crash.

_Let them come_ he thought to himself. What was the point in trying to subdue them, he wondered, if only to have them plague his mind again later? Finding resolve in letting go, he settled into his springy 3rd class flight chair. Taking a breath, he allowed himself to sink.

Oo0oO

The 9 hour flight from London to India passed with startling swiftness; so much so that Arthur was sure he had only closed his eyes for a few minutes before the impact of the tires on runway jolted him to consciousness. It was late afternoon already, the scraggly green trees that dominated the Indian horizon outlined in rich, golden hues.

Arthur blinked as he felt the plane roll to a gradual stop, attempting to recollect his dreams. He found nothing of use in them, they were the same dreams he'd had every night since the phone call that changed everything. Ariadne was there, calling to him, tears streaming down her face as she begged for Arthur. In his dream, he had discovered, she could not see him, but he could see her, and all of her pain and suffering. So many times he had tried to call back to her, to let her know that he was there and everything would be ok. But no sound ever escaped his lips, and he could not move to help her, and every morning he woke up with the same feeling of emptiness and loss.

He had told no one about these dreams, nor had he given the slightest hint that he had such nightmares. He did not want to burden anyone with his own grief, so instead he buried it deep inside, in a small box only to be opened in his very deepest of slumbers.

By now, passengers were beginning to exit the plane, the majority of the people pushing and shoving their way through the aisles in a fruitless attempt to exit faster. Normally, Arthur would find humor in such foolish behavior, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to find the heart.

Naturally, Cobb was the first of the team to rise and collect his things, followed shortly by Nash, Arthur, and Eames.

Of all the men, Eames had been the most detached after the first part of the game, his mind still haunted with the memories of the game. Like the pain, so complete and horrid, like a fire that raged through his very bloodstream and singed his soul. And the feeble struggling of the man he had nearly killed, his vain attempts to save his own life from the forger. Looking back, Eames could hardly bear the thought of it, the heartless monster that had nearly killed a man. And the monster, was himself.

Eames had done some pretty horrible things in his lifetime, dealing on the other side of the law, putting several people in the hospital. But he had never killed a person. Sure, he had killed hundreds of projections in self-defense. But taking the life of a living person? He wasn't sure he had the moral resolve to do that. But last night, something inside of him had just snapped. Had his friends not have been there to talk him out of it, he was certain he would not have been able to stop himself. And that scared him.

Understanding this, the rest of the team had been mindful not to drag him into conversations, leaving him to his own devices and thoughts.

Now, the team shuffled slowly down the narrow aisle, among the last of the passengers to exit the plane. Still held in silence, they began the trek through the long, narrow building in search of their luggage when Nash suddenly stopped short, pulling back.

"What are we _doing_?" he said suddenly, the sound of his voice causing the rest of the team to pause and look back. "I mean, look at us! We haven't even lost yet and we're all moping around like it's over. And for what?" Nash asked irritably, looking over their solemn faces in search of an answer.

To their great surprise, it was Eames who replied, speaking in a low voice for the first time since the previous night. "You don't understand," he began, meeting Nash's gaze evenly. "Everything that's happening, this isn't some bedtime story where the heros go fighting near impossible odds to defeat a bad guy and save the girl. There is no guarantee that we will win, it is quite possible that she, or any one of us even, could die if we lose. This man who took her, he's not going to 'play nice'. He will do everything in his power to break us, to tear each one of us down to where we have no choice but to give in." Eames paused for a moment, looking the architect straight in the eyes. "That bastard may call this a game, but the moment you start treating it like one will be the death of us all."

The moment the word's left the forger's mouth, the team was again overcome by silence, his speech infesting itself deep into their hearts. Though they tried to brush it aside, or deny its existence altogether, it was the truth. There was no guarantee, there never was. Ariadne could be dead for all they knew, and they were all just fighting a meaningless battle. They still had no idea what this man wanted, but at this point they knew one thing for sure. He was breaking them.

After about a minute of silence, just as the group's tension was reaching its peak, Cobb stepped forward. He calmly waited as he felt the full weight of their anger, their frustration, their hope fall on him, and then he spoke.

"Look at what's happening to us," he began, strong conviction backing up each and every one of his words. "We're doing exactly what he wants us to do, we're turning on each other and we're giving up. He's using this game to break us, even without physically doing anything. He's dividing us." Here Cobb paused, looking between the other members. "Fighting isn't going to help Ariadne, if anything it's hurting what little chances we have to help her. We all want the same thing, to win this game and get back to our normal lives. But if we go at it like this we're not going to accomplish anything. If we're going to get her back, we need to do it together."

For a moment, a look of awe registered on every man's face, as each of them felt his words sink in. Cobb was right. They couldn't let him break them. Even if they weren't a team -and they could all agree that they most certainly were not- they had to do this. For Ariadne.

Oo0oO


	12. Agra

Chapter 12: Agra

**A/N: Hey. I apologize for the lack of updates, but I was away on vacation, and will be going away on several other vacations as summer progresses. Just as well, I also have a whole lot of summer homework I have to do… Yeah, I never get a break. :/ **

**I should mention, this chapter contains an idiom from Indian culture. The language is Hindi, though if you type the phrase into a translation website it won't work properly because I typed the phrase as it is spoken, not as it is written. There is an asterisk signaling a footnote directly after the phrase. (Note: For those who do not know how footnotes work, at the end of this chapter there is another asterisk which translates and explains the idiom.)**

**Disclaimer: The line "Know Thy Enemy" was a quote by the Chinese general and military strategist Sun Tzu.**

Oo0oO

The next day found the team crammed together in a perfectly tiny Indian taxicab, the doubt that had once filled their thoughts long gone, to be replaced with of scowls of annoyance. Anyone who has ever been to India or in an Indian taxicab would be able to tell you why. For starters, it was barely even 10 o'clock and the sun was already beating down hard, fanning the streets with hot waves of 35o Celsius (about 95o Fahrenheit) wind. This of course was typical for an Indian summer, and yet the team had foolishly chosen to keep with their typical suit jackets (all except Nash, who took great joy in their misery).

Another cause for their discomfort was the cab itself, which- as well as being far too small to seat 5 people- was doorless. This was also quite common in India, and though it provided easy access into and out of the cab, it also provided that things outside the cab had easy access to you. This included a species of mischievous monkeys who had a habit of stealing jewelry and other such shiny objects at traffic lights.

Now the idea of an animal stealing your belongings well inside the confines of a city may sound quite startling to some, but animals played a large part in Indian culture. Since Agra especially has a vast Hindu culture, certain animals are considered sacred, and can frequently be found abusing their status by terrorizing citizens.

It is in this way that the team found their cab at a standstill, not –as one might think- waiting for a streetlight to change, but waiting instead for a herd of cattle to cross the street. It was not a particularly big herd, just a few large bulls and their calves, but they seemed to be in absolutely no rush whatsoever, for they wandered in circles in front of the taxi instead of simply walking across.

"This has got to be a bloody joke," Eames grumbled, referring especially to one calf who had decided to simply _stand_ in the middle of the road.

Nash grumbled in agreement, crossing his arms and saying nothing.

Cobb sighed. "Can't we just go around them?" he complained from his seat beside the driver, annoyance plaguing him as well.

"No. When you drive, you can break laws. But when you in Faraji's car, you wait," he said sternly, in heavily accented English.

"Look, we have somewhere we have to be. It's kind of important," Arthur put in mildly, leaning forward.

"Bhawan ke ghar der hai andher nahi*," Faraji responded coldly, not taking his eyes off the road.

Arthur sighed exasperatedly, not bothering to ask for the translation as he settled back into his seat between Eames and Nash. Normally he wasn't one to feel claustrophobic, but this whole situation made him feel stiff and cramped, the idea of a good stretch appealing to Arthur like the word "walk" to a dog.

They hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, only having just enough time to find a few rooms in a cheap motel and sleep for about 5 hours before getting on the move again. Most people could barely function with less than 7 hours of sleep, but after years of working with Cobb and the dream-share program his body seemed to have gotten used to it, and as long as he got more than 3 he seemed to be ok. However, now he considered dozing off, partially just from general tiredness, partially as some sort of distraction from the heat. After all, discomfort was only in the mind, wasn't it?

Unfortunately, Arthur was soon jerked awake by the turning of the cab's engine, and before he knew it they were moving again. He felt himself yawn. Loudly.

"Someone's a bit tired aren't we?" Eames sneered, only giving Arthur a brief glance before turning his eyes to the surroundings.

"Oh ha ha. But you'd be tired to if you had to share a room with him," he inclined his head towards Nash.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nash demanded, his naivety getting the better of him.

The men exchanged a glance, smiling, and said nothing, leaving the architect bumbling like an idiot as they turned their attention back toward their surroundings. Having passed the poorer section of Indian culture, they were now beginning to drive into the heart of Agra, where the dirt streets gave way to smooth, straight boulevards. Beautiful palaces began to line their path as they began to approach the Taj Mahal, dominating the sky over the roofs of brick buildings.

Looking at these structures, it was hard to believe that only a few minutes earlier they had passed beggars on the street; homeless children with no hope for food if they couldn't nab some off a tourist. In some ways they were like the monkeys: dark, clever, always lingering around the flood of people that swarmed to Agra's rich culture. However, they wouldn't harass you for money like the down-on-their-luck folks you would find in places like New York. Instead, they would watch from the shadows, either too shy or too hateful to approach you.

India, laden with beautiful palaces, temples, and history as it may be, was still a very poor country. However, it was these poor working-class people who literally built India, and set the foundations for its future.

Reflecting on these thoughts, the team eventually arrived at their destination, the white palace of the sky known as the Taj Mahal. One of the 7 wonders of the world, the first thing that struck the team upon seeing it was the sheer size of it. Pictures did no justice to the colossus that was the Taj Mahal, the historic building that took 3,700 architects and engineers, and 20,000 laborers 40 years to construct. It was one of those sights that made you sit back and marvel at the ability of man, the thought that (before the invention of "modern" technology, mind you) people could come together to build something so amazing.

As the cab slowly edged to a stop, Cobb paid the driver, and the team was just exiting when Faraji declared, "No tip?"

"Bhawan ke ghar der hai andher nahi," Eames responded cheekily, turning away as the driver spat a flurry of angry responses in Hindi.

Arthur looked back at Faraji, his gaze shifting curiously between the Indian man and the forger. "What did you say to him?"

Eames shrugged innocently, though Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the forger knew exactly what had been said. He didn't press him, however, and the team began slowly making their way toward the entrance to the Taj Mahal.

Much like the London Eye, the walkways leading toward the memorial were teeming with people; most of which were adorned in lively whites, reds, yellows, and browns. As usual the team stood out quite noticeably from the normal crowd, and received many curious stares as they progressed.

"Why are they staring?" Nash couldn't help but ask, feeling uneasy.

"Four suspicious well-dressed English men walk into a national monument carrying a bolted metal briefcase; I would be more concerned if they didn't stare," Cobb said smartly, keeping an even pace. However he suddenly stopped, bringing the rest of the team to a halt just behind him. They had reached the entrance to the Taj Mahal, standing at the bottom of a short flight of slender, white stairs. Beyond the staircase was a massive half-dome cut into the side of the stone building, which housed the window-like doorway that lead inside.

They made no attempt to move inside, however, for mounted in the dead center of the staircase was the blonde haired woman from before. For a brief moment, Arthur felt his heart stop in his chest. If she was here already, did that mean that they were already too late? It was true, they had left themselves plenty of time to get to the Taj Mahal from their hotel in the morning, but was it possible that it wasn't enough?

Frowning, the team approached the woman. Similar to their last encounter, the woman wore the same, cold expression as before, though this time her frosty eyes were hidden behind a thick pair of sunglasses. She barely even turned her head as they came to stand in front of her, though her grimace seemed to deepen when she saw recognized them.

"You're early," she stated, stressing the words to make it sound like a crime. Though it was impossible to tell from behind her glasses, Arthur was sure he felt her eyes flick to him, as if trying to get him to squirm from guilt. He didn't even wince. Seeing his lack of reaction, she scowled, turning on the edge of her black stiletto and beginning to walk away.

Not waiting for an invitation, the team followed her.

Oo0oO

It wasn't long before they arrived at their apparent destination, a crumbling, brick building that looked like it hadn't seen better days for the last 100 years. The building's faded brown walls were littered with holes and cracks the size of an average man, and many of them had ugly black weeds climbing up their sides. What was meant to be the structure's windows and doors were no more than empty holes, all of which were lopsided as if they had been altered in some massive earthquake.

However, despite its outer appearance, once inside the building seemed quite stable. What Arthur presumed was once a dirt floor was completely covered over by a layer of concrete, which was untouched by the imperfections that littered the rest of the building. A solid-looking set of stairs had been shoved into the corner, which led to another floor that was remarkably similar to the first. The only noticeable difference were the 4 hospital beds and small metal table that were scattered lazily throughout the space.

It was here that the woman finally stopped, turning around expectantly to face the men. Taking the hint, each team member claimed a bed, while the woman swiftly unlocked a PASIV and handed an IV to each man.

"You will be instructed on how to participate in the next part of the game once you are under," she, her voice taking on the monotone sound of one who is reciting from a script, "you will be woken up when the game has ended, and from there it shall be determined if you passed or failed." She walked back over to the PASIV, reaching over to press the button.

The team shut their eyes in preparation.

"One more thing to remember," she said abruptly, causing them to reopen their eyes in surprise. "Know thine enemy." And with that, the world went black.

Oo0oO

* "Bhawan ke ghar der hai andher nahi"  
>An idiom widely used in daily conversations in India<p>

Direct Translation: There is delay in god's house not darkness  
><span>Meaning:<span> All is fair in life even if there are slight delays.


	13. Know Thine Enemy

Chapter 13: Know Thine Enemy

**A/N: Ok, so I just spent the last 5 hours reworking my entire story and adding more onto this chapter, which is totally awesome because now I am finally at peace with my earlier chapters of this story, and can continue on without too much delay. Well at least, that was the plan. The only problem is that school begins the day after tomorrow, so updates will probably become infrequent once again. :/ Oh well.**

Oo0oO

Arthur opened his eyes, recoiling as a harsh, natural light burned his vision. He groaned, spots dancing in front of his eyes as they adjusted to the brightness, and he blinked in an attempt to focus his sight. He appeared to be standing in a long, narrow room, with a blue and white checkered floor and four walls painted the same shade of with. The bright light that Arthur had first noticed was attributed by 8 large windows that lined the wall to his right, brilliant rays of golden sun penetrating through the glass. Everything about the room gave it a very bright, clean appearance, almost to the point where the very sight of it was blinding.

Pondering this, Arthur couldn't help but wonder what the purpose of such a room was. Though the room certainly was _bright_, the room itself didn't feel very warm or welcoming; in fact it had quite the opposite effect. The coloration gave the room an appearance of being _too _bright and _too_ clean, like a doctor's office or a new car. Every other color seemed to drown in the magnificent whiteness of the walls, and Arthur couldn't help but feel that he too was sinking.

Still observing the room, Arthur was startled out of his thoughts by a small groan, and he spun around to find the other 3 members of his team standing behind him. Like him, they also seemed to have noticed the shocking brightness of the room, for they too looked around with great surprise and curiosity.

"Ugh, where are we?" Nash groaned, using his hand to shield the light from his eyes.

"This must be where the next part of the game takes place," Cobb offered simply, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking thoughtfully around the room.

"Well that's bloody obvious," Eames snorted thoughtlessly. "Though I think the real question we should be asking is what the fuck we're expected to do with an empty room."

At this, the other members of the team also observed the room, unsure of how they could have missed such a significant detail. Though the room was rather large -being able to easily hold several average-sized cars- it was utterly empty besides them, just plain white walls and a bare floor. There was no letter detailing the next part of the game, no ringing telephone to provide mysterious and terse instructions, nothing. Just an empty room.

"That's weird," Arthur said, a thoughtful look passing over his features. "You'd think he'd leave us with at least some sort of clue as to what we're supposed to do."

Eames nodded. "Maybe we're supposed to try to escape or something."

Cobb shook his head. "No, the windows provide too easy an escape for that. Plus, even if that was what the second challenge is supposed to be, he still would have left us with some kind of instruction or time limit."

"But if not that… then what? I mean there has to be something," Nash insisted, a look of confusion passing over his face. For once, the others did not argue with him, for they too shared in his feelings of perplexity. Though it seemed quite obvious that the room was bare, it just didn't make any sense. What would be the purpose of putting them in an empty room?

"Maybe there's something we're missing," Cobb said, moving away from the group to further investigate the area. Taking the hint, the rest of the team followed suit, dispersing to various corners of the room to look for some clue as what they were supposed to do. But, as they had first observed, there was nothing.

"This doesn't make sense," Arthur muttered, half to himself.

Eames nodded. "Yeah, but we checked it. Where could we have possibly missed?"

For a moment, there was silence as the team pondered his question. Where _had_ they missed? If they really had checked everywhere in the room, than the only place that they could have missed was…

"Wait, everyone, check your pockets," Cobb said abruptly, shoving his own hands into the side of his coat.

"What? Why?" Nash asked instinctively, giving the extractor a strange look.

"When we played the first game, I found instructions on how to play in my coat pocket," Cobb explained, still fumbling through his suit. "So if this room really is empty, then it's more than likely he put the instructions on one of us."

"Oh yeah, I remember he left the instructions folded in my handkerchief pocket," Eames exclaimed, beginning to check his own outfit.

At this point, each of the team members had also taken to checking themselves, searching long forgotten fold and creases in their suits in an attempt to find such an object. Not a minute had passed before Arthur spoke up, pulling a small gray device from his pants pocket and holding it up for the others to see. It was a pretty simplistic machine, having only two small black buttons and a series of indented lines on the surface indicating a speaker.

"It's a voice recorder," Eames observed, "Single use. Possibly among the most basic battery-powered machine mankind can make."

"Play it back," Nash urged.

Moving his finger to the button with a raised "play" symbol, Arthur pushed down once.

_Good evening gentleman. _A familiar man's voice began in a polite tone, though nothing about the sound of it gave the team comfort. _It seems we're ready to begin the 2__nd__ part of the game. Listen closely, and I'll tell you all how to play. Now, unbeknownst to you, one of the men amongst you has been replaced by a fake, more specifically, my forger. _

Here, there was a short pause, as if the speaker had anticipated the confusion and surprise his statement would invoke, and had opted to wait for it to fully sink in.

_ This forger is debatably the best I have ever come across, and has been tested to play many roles, including each of you, down to a tee. Now, you will have exactly 30 minutes to "guess the fake". You can make your guess any time within those 30 minutes, but you must remember that whatever guess you make is final and cannot be taken back. If you guess correctly, you win. If not, you lose. It's that simple. To avoid confusion the final guess will be made by starting with "Our final guess is (insert name here)". To avoid making this unfair however the fake will not make a final guess, so it's up to the three of you who really are who you say you are to determine who that person is. Any one of you 3 can make the final guess, but remember, after it had been said there is no taking it back, no matter what. _

Again, there was a slight pause. _And your time begins… now. Good luck. _With that, the machine gave a short _beep _to indicate the message was complete, before fizzling into silence.

For a few moments afterward, the team just stood there, staring blankly at the recorder as if had just told them that aliens had landed in London. It was a shocking thing to hear; that one of the men around you, whom up to a second ago you assumed to be one of your most reliable companions, was a fake. One of the very people you had just agreed to put all your trust in was the enemy, and you only had 30 minutes to find out who exactly it was, or lose everything trying.

"It's another one of his attempts to break us," Arthur muttered, half to himself. "What better way to break our trust than by replacing one of us with a fake?"

"It's a good plan, and the perfect setting to have us do it in," Cobb nodded grimly, taking slow steps around the room to ease his nerves. "There's no obvious way to escape this room besides the window, and there's nothing here to help us test who is the fake and who isn't. It's just us."

"Yeah, but even so, it shouldn't be that hard to find the fake, right? I mean can't we just ask each other things only the real them would know?" Nash piped up.

"Oh no it won't be as simple as that," Eames responded immediately, his tone slightly condescending. "If this forger is really as good as that man says he is, than he should know pretty much everything about us, right down to our favorite bloody colors."

"Well then how are we supposed to find out who the forger replaced?" Arthur questioned.

Cobb put a hand thoughtfully on his chin. "No matter how good of a forger this person is, whoever they are will undeniably try to draw attention away from themselves, not only by acting how the person should act, but also by trying to put the blame on other people."

"Or by pointedly putting himself on the spot to convince us that he isn't the fake," Nash mumbled, eyeing Dom suspiciously. "I mean, I'm no forger, but it doesn't seem like it would be too hard to be a group leader who has the answers to seemingly everything.

"What are you trying to say?" Cobb shot back.

"I'm saying that, even if you are our team's leader, we shouldn't avert our suspicion from you. If anyone it would make sense that Cobb was replaced to further break our trust."

"But Cobb's not the one going around making blind accusations," Eames muttered.

"You think it's me?" Nash replied, stunned.

"Well I'm not trying to point any fingers here but you _were _the first to make an accusation, Cobb was the one who was just listing what we should be looking for," Eames said evenly.

"I wasn't making an accusation, I was just trying to bring up a point we should be considering. For all I know _you're _the one we should feel suspicious about." Nash spat, his temper obviously building.

"Oh and what makes you say that?" Eames questioned, amusement finding its way into his tone.

"You were the one who started accusing me of being the fake, to try to draw attention away from yourself. What have you got to hide, Eames?"

"Ok enough!" a voice rang through the room, and everyone turned to see Arthur looking angrily back at each of them. "we're not going to get anywhere if we just sit around and argue like this. Regardless of whom we think is the fake or not, we have to approach this more rationally."

"Arthur is right," Cobb jumped in, taking over. "If we waste our time making blind accusations like this, we might as well just give up on the game now." He gave a meaningful look at Nash and Eames.

The architect dropped his eyes to the floor, scowling to hide his embarrassment. Eames remained silent.

Cobb nodded at his handiwork, obviously satisfied.

"Alright then, but that still leaves the question of how we should go about exposing the forger." Arthur stated glumly, raising an eyebrow at Cobb.

"I think I'll leave this one to Eames," Cobb motioned to the forger, who nodded and took the stage.

"Right. Now, Dom wasn't wrong when he said a forger will try to draw attention away from himself, especially in a situation where we know for certain that one of us is an imposter. Normally a forger will just start changing the subject if the subconscious starts asking too many questions. However, since we don't have time to play 20 questions, we'll have to approach this differently."

"Differently being…?" Nash prompted.

"Well, so far we've been making our accusations based on what we perceive to be unusual behavior. We've been seeking out and calculating what is wrong with what each of us has been saying, when in reality we should be approaching this from an entirely different way. We need to rely on our subconscious."

"Our subconscious?" Nash blurted, obviously confused.

"You mean intuition?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Eames nodded. "When we enter someone else's dreams, their subconscious automatically seeks us out as a sort of virus. They know that we do not belong and that there is something different about it, even if though the subject themselves may have no idea. The same basic concept works here. While we consciously may not know who it is, subconsciously we all know something or one isn't right. This is where intuition comes into play. If we all rely on our first instinct as to who it is, and our accusations match up, then it's quite obvious who the forger is."

"So, just rely on our intuition," Nash muttered, taking a step back and looking over the crowd of men. Here he paused, his eyes raking over each man with slow, cat-like precision. "I think the forger is you, Arthur." Nash exclaimed.

"What, me?" Arthur stuttered, taken aback.

Nash nodded. "No one would suspect that you were the fake, since you were the one he first contacted to participate in the games. And everyone knows that the least suspicious person is always the most suspicious."

"That's crazy of course it isn't me. If anyone's suspicious it's Cobb" Arthur jabbed a finger at the extractor. "You _were_ the one who knew where to look for the voice recorder, and the one who originally started the argument over who the fake was."

"What, that's impossible. If anyone it would make sense that Eames were replaced. Because no one knows a forger better than a forger." Cobb turned his gaze to the man.

"This is getting ridiculous. It can't be me, it's obviously Nash. The guy who took Ariadne knew that we've had the least amount of experience with Nash, so he would be the easiest to replace with a fake." Eames pointed at the architect, the momentum of his swing causing his gold watch to shift on his wrist.

"Me?" Nash replied slowly, though he sounded more confused than upset.

"That would make sense," Arthur agreed slowly, turning his attention to the smaller man. "As obvious as it may seem, it may also be our best bet."

"Hey we need to calm down. Remember, we only have one shot at guessing the fake, and we shouldn't waste it on a possibility." Cobb argued, though he too began observing Nash curiously.

"Normally I would agree, but we don't have much time left," Arthur said slowly, looking over Nash with a mix of hope and anger.

"Well Nash… do you have anything to say for yourself?" Eames offered.

"What have I got to say for myself…?" Nash whipped around to each face, confusion and fear evident on his face. Then, all at once, his expression calmed, and his gaze locked with one man in particular. "I say… My final answer is Eames."

Oo0oO

**A/N: Wow, epic cliffhanger! Haha. Anyways, is Nash right? And if so why? In this chapter I have written two things that give away who the fake is (for those of you who were paying attention, that is). One of them will only be spotted by major "Inception" fans, the other will only be spotted by people who pay close attention to certain things in my story. I won't say what they are or who they are against, but whoever finds them both gets a gold star. :D**

** Disclaimer: The idea of this game comes from episode 67 of the anime series "Bleach".**


	14. Doors and Windows

Chapter 14: Doors and Windows

Oo0oO

Time seemed to stop for a few moments, Nash's voice echoing faintly in the vastness of the room. Though, in that moment, the room felt much smaller than it appeared, for the once empty space was now occupied with an almost tangible amount of shock and horror. With just 5 simple words, the architect had put everything on the line, giving in to a moment of blind fear in an attempt to draw their accusations elsewhere. Now, under the heavy gazes of his teammates, he cringed.

"What… did you just do?" Eames asked slowly, his voice dangerous.

Nash, who had appeared so confident mere moments ago, was silent, his bright eyes turned to the floor.

Arthur saw Cobb open his mouth to make an additional comment, but he was silenced as a small tremor shook the room. They barely had time to exchange glances when a flash of white cut across Arthur's vision, blinding him with its intensity. He cringed slightly, and in a heartbeat the white room had vanished. In the next moment, the scene changed, and Arthur suddenly found himself in a familiar, tan-colored room.

He sniffed, the humid Indian air choking his lungs after the coolness of the dream. Coughing, he pulled himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising into a standing position. On impulse, his hands went to his suit, quickly straightening the fabric until it was as pristine as its first day on the rack. Satisfied, Arthur turned his attention to the rest of the room, blinking in surprise as he did so.

_They moved us,_ Arthur thought quietly, taking in the area around him. This room was similar to the one where the team had first been put under, yet it was quite clearly different. For starters, this room was about a third of the size of the previous one, and was slightly more rectangular than the first. Secondly, where there were once windows on two of the four walls, this room only had one, which had a view of a completely different part of the city. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, he was completely alone.

Frowning, the point man quickly unattached the IV from his arm, following the clear tube across the room to where it disappeared under a dark reddish door. Taking a step back, Arthur reached for the door's handle, only to find it was locked. The point man sighed, rapping his fist against the wood until his knuckles turned bright red from the effort. He waited a few moments, before abandoning his hopes, running a hand thoughtfully through his hair. He considered attempting to kick it down, but quickly decided against it, noting how the door had barely even rattled when he knocked.

Turning to the rest of the room, Arthur slowly wandered over to the empty window, leaning his arm against the wall and looking out. Evening was beginning to fall over Agra, and long shadows had begun to crawl their way over the dusty streets. In the typical late day fashion, the country's children had claimed the roads as their own, scampering around in small groups and kicking up clouds of dust into the endless blue sky. Somewhere, a goat bleated.

In spite of his situation, Arthur couldn't help but smiled at the tranquility of it all. In the midst of so much tension, it felt strange to acknowledge that there was still such peace, such carefree happiness left in the world. In his line of work, it was easy to forget that.

"_When this is over, Ariadne, we'll go away somewhere_." Arthur thought, looking out over the rugged skyline. _"Somewhere work won't follow me, where you can be safe. Australia, maybe." _He smiled at the thought of one of the only two countries he hadn't ever been to. _"I'll do whatever it takes, as long as you're safe." _

Still lost in thought, Arthur barely heard the creak of the opening door, and he nearly jumped when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The point man spun around, surprised when he recognized a familiar patch of red hair.

"Jarvis," the word slipped through his dry lips, more as a question than a statement. Despite the team's previous encounter with the man, he seemed surprisingly calm, and just as arrogant as the first time they crossed paths. In fact, Arthur might have believed the scene hadn't happened at all had it not been for the blossoming purple welts on Jarvis's throat.

Not noticing Arthur's shifted attention, Jarvis simply nodded, snickering. "I'm surprised you remembered my name."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" the point man quickly changed the subject, unwilling to get too friendly with the man.

"Straight to the point as always," Jarvis sighed, muttering. His eyes locked with Arthur's. "I'm here to take you to meet up with the rest of your team."

At this, Arthur turned fully towards the man, the window and his promise to Ariadne momentarily forgotten. "Does that mean we won?" he felt himself ask; hope managing to worm its way into his voice.

"Good to see I've gained your full attention." Jarvis grinned, carefully avoiding the question. Glancing back at the point man, he turned, and began to make his way out of the room.

Desperate for answers, Arthur leaped up, and quickly following the man. As he passed through the now open door, Arthur found himself in a room similar to the one he just left, only instead of windows, each wall held a similar red door. In addition, in the very center of the room stood a small metal table, a PASIV on top of it. Four IV cords were attached to machine, each one leading under a different door.

"_They split us up_," he noted, putting it together. "_So when we woke up we wouldn't know if the guess was right or not." _Anger boiled in Arthur's chest at the thought of the man on the other end of the phone, for Arthur knew this was more of his quiet manipulation of the team in order to break them apart. It was sick, the thought of someone getting _pleasure _out of things like this. Out of watching a team collapse under their own fear and anger, of holding an innocent young woman against her will, as her friends risked their lives to save her. It was madness.

However, Arthur was careful to control his emotions, bottling them up and putting on a calm face. This was one of the many attributes that came with being the team's point man, being able to keep calm in any situation. Though it took years of practice to truly master such an art, Arthur knew it was an invaluable skill, now more than ever.

As these thoughts passed through his head, Jarvis unlocked the door to the immediate right of Arthur's, and lead him to a room virtually identical to the first. This time, however, the room was completely empty, and the two walls which were empty in Arthur's room now housing doors.

Upon completely entering the room, Arthur suddenly became aware of the sound of voices emulating from one of the walls. Although he couldn't distinguish individual words, he heard the heavy anger of two men arguing. Suddenly wary, the point man trailed behind a bit, watching as Jarvis approached the door to the right. Without hesitation, he pulled out a key ring, jamming the toothed metal into the hole. Immediately, voices erupted through the air.

"I'm telling you, it wasn't my god damn fault!" one yelled, which Arthur instantly recognized to be Nash.

"And just how exactly can you justify that?" another retorted, which Arthur identified as Cobb. "_You _were the one who made the final guess. _You _were the one who threw away all caution just because you had a _feeling_ of who was the fake. And you're trying to tell me it's not your fault?"

As the door swung open completely, Arthur cleared his throat, the two men stopping short.

"Arthur," Nash said slowly, his expression taking on one of relief and amazement.

Cobb looked surprised as well, his brow furrowing. "But… if you were in the game then-"

"Eames was the fake," a new voice finished, and the men turned to see the woman from before standing in the doorway. "Congratulations, you won the second game." Here she paused, her snake-like eyes raking over the team. Reaching into her coat pocket, she drew a small, white object, holding it out in her hand. "This envelope contains the next game's location. Your presence is expected in three days' time."

She deftly tossed the envelope toward the floor, watching as it slid over the surface until it came to a stop just short of Cobb's feet. Not waiting for a reply, she made to leave.

"Wait!" Arthur called out, and she turned impatiently to face him.

"What about Eames?"

At this, she rolled her eyes slightly, her expression as heartless as ever. "He is fine, if that is what you meant. He will meet with you when you exit the building." Her tone was conclusive. Before another word could be said, she disappeared behind a closed door, taking Jarvis with her. Silence fell steadily upon the room, though it was mixed with the thankful, budding joy of relief. They had won.

As usual, Cobb was the first to recover, turning harshly to the architect. "Don't think this excuses what happened down there," Cobb declared, his voice still tinged with anger. "Regardless of whether or not we won, you jeopardized the entire mission for your own sake. You could have easily cost us everything, and you should consider yourself lucky that you didn't."

"Cobb," Arthur cut in before he could go on. The extractor turned. "It doesn't matter now why he said what he did, or what _maybe_ could have happened, the point is that we won. That's all the matters."

The blonde-haired man paused for a moment, his eyes softening.

"No Arthur, Cobb is right." Nash stood up straight, his voice open. "I shouldn't have made the accusation without consulting with the team first. I was wrong to assume I was right; I just couldn't risk someone guessing that it was me. I'm sorry."

Here, there was another pause as Cobb took in his words. He blinked, all anger seeming to have momentarily drained from his face. Slowly, the words found their way to his mouth. "What's past is past." He said slowly, sighing. "What's important is that we put it behind us. Ariadne is still counting on us."

Slowly, Cobb made his way across the room to the letter on the floor, picking it up. Brushing off the dust, he managed to open it using his finger, and he carefully removed the typed letter inside.

"Congratulations. If you're reading this you have successfully completed the second part of the game. To advance to the next part of the game you are to gather at Grauman's Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles, California in three days' time." Here, Cobb stopped for a moment, drawing a breath. "At 12:00 noon the next part of the game will begin. As usual, failure to arrive at the destination within the anointed time will result in an immediate loss of the game. Best of luck."

Here, Cobb lowered the letter, folding it up and putting it in his waistcoat pocket.

Nash blinked. "L.A.? Cobb, isn't that-"

"Yeah." He interjected, his voice grave. "I'm going home."

Oo0oO

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since my last update, but I've been super busy with going back to school and all, so I haven't had much time to work on this story. Plus, I update stories based on the one I haven't worked on in the longest time, and I have other stories I was working on too. Whatever, the point is, it's finally Thanksgiving break, so I finally got time to work on this story. **

**Please review!**


	15. Silent Shadows

Chapter 15: Silent Shadows

Oo0oO

In a locked room of a red-colored building, Eames slowly felt himself coming to, the fog of darkness over his mind fading into the merciless of light of the waking world. Groaning slightly, he tried to fight it, to slip back into his unconscious state where thought and imagination ran free. Just before he could, however, he heard the sound of faint voices outside his door, and a dull rustling like a key being retrieved from a bag.

The forger's eyes shot open. Acting on instinct, he launched himself out of bed, flying across the room and flattening his body against the wall just to the right of the door. As he did so, he heard the voices outside pause for a moment as they registered the sound. However, thinking nothing of it, they quickly resumed their conversation.

'_Damn it_,' Eames cursed silently, struggling to get his breathing under control. Years of dealing in this line of work had turned him into a relatively light sleeper, for he was always listening for the sound of irregular footsteps in the hall, or the metal claws of a lock pick working away at his door. Though at first his sensitivity to noise had seemed more of a curse than anything, he couldn't count the number of times it had saved his hide. That being said, he knew he should have been more prepared, should have heard the echo of their footsteps through the clay walls.

Angry and desperate, Eames felt adrenaline raging through his system like fire, his scattered thoughts quickly organizing themselves to form some sort of explanation for what was going on. Last he could remember, he had been a similar-looking room with the rest of his teammates, hooked up to a PASIV and preparing to enter the dreamscape. And yet, Eames still felt amazingly awake, finding none of the tell-tale signs that this was the dream world and not the real one. Scowling, Eames felt his fingers itch to reach for his totem, his only way of knowing for sure exactly what was going on.

However, the sound of the key turning in the lock quickly drew his attention, and he stopped short. Holding his breath, he waited in near perfect silence as the door swung open. He barely registered the figure emerging when he lunged out, grabbing the person's arms and twisting them painfully behind their back. The man (the build was too bulky to be a woman) let out a surprised yelp of pain, and in a moment Eames had him slammed up against the nearby wall.

"Who are you, where am I?" the forger demanded quickly, his tone calm but deadly.

"Geez, always with the questions." The man replied, amusement finding its way into his strained voice.

Caught off guard by his reaction, Eames hesitated, his guard lowering ever so slightly. But it was enough. In a moment the man broke free of the forger's hold, launching Eames backward and whipping around to face him. Reacting immediately, Eames made to steady himself, raising his arms into a defensive position. However, upon seeing the man's face, he lowered them.

"You."

"You? You nearly kill me twice now and all I get is 'oh, you'?" Jarvis sneered with mock abhorrence. "At least your friend Arthur bothered to remember my name."

Eames' eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't sound so smug if I were you."

"Why not? You have no reason to hurt me, and even if you did the only thing you would accomplish is risk the boss calling off the game and killing your friend. Speaking of which, the only reason he forgave you last time is because it was an 'accident'."

Eames hesitated, feeling inclined to believe the man and back off. However, logic told him that it was merely a bluff. The man behind his operation wouldn't go through so much trouble to protect a lowly field agent, especially not one as arrogant and thoughtless as Jarvis. No, Jarvis was disposable, a pawn whose sole purpose was to act as a human shield for the king.

He would receive orders from a mysterious voice on the phone; follow them without question lest he be shut up for good. He would be put in the most dangerous position on the whole playing field, oblivious to the true motives of his employer. And, when all was said and done, he would be the one caught by the police, while the king slipped away undetected. In spite of himself, Eames felt the smallest trace of pity for the man.

"Fine." Eames said slowly, letting the subject drop. "Can you at least tell me where I am?"

"You're in a building adjacent to that where you were originally put under." He put simply, his tone passive. "While the rest of your team entered the dreamscape to participate in the second game, you were injected with a drug meant to keep you unconscious for the duration of that period."

Eames snickered. "And why is that?"

Jarvis waved off the question. "You're team can bring you up to speed later. The point is that they won, and you will all be proceeding to the next game destination at the Grauman's Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles, California."

'_L.A._' His thoughts immediately flashed to Cobb, to the two young children that Eames knew were living in the area. _'If that bastard laid a single finger on them…'_

Suddenly remembering Jarvis, Eames looked up, and found the man was patiently waiting for the forger's response. Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Eames cleared his throat.

"But… why?"

Jarvis blinked, clearly confused at the question.

Realizing his thoughtlessness, Eames quickly corrected himself. "Or I guess what I mean to say is, what's the point of carting our team all over the world to play these little 'games' anyways? Sure it's entertaining to watch us flounder, but if you're employer really wanted a favor like he claims then he would have blackmailed us from the beginning. Why go through all of the trouble?"

Though he was expecting a typical, sarcastic response, Eames was surprised when he saw the man hesitate, his expression turning grave. "I…don't know…" He faded off, looking like he wanted to say more. "I-"

Before he could continue, he was interrupted by a small beeping noise, which he quickly identified was coming from his jacket pocket. Shoving in his hand, Jarvis fished out a small black phone, pressing a button and putting it up to his ear. Immediately he recoiled, yanking the device away from his ear in shock. However, after a moment he recovered, quickly returning it to his ear and turning away from the forger.

Acting on instinct, Eames did his best to listen in, but he couldn't make out individual words. Judging by the speaker's voice, however, it was pretty safe to say that whoever was on the other end was extremely angry. Not wanting to get involved, Eames turned to face the window, casually sight-seeing until he heard the snap of a closing phone. Turning around, Eames was surprised to find a blank expression on the man's face, his usual humor long gone.

"Your team has just been briefed with the same information as you, and they'll be outside this building in a manner of minutes." Jarvis said quietly, stepping away from the doorway and motioning for Eames to go through. "I suggest you be there to greet them."

Struck by Jarvis's sudden change in behavior, Eames hesitated for a moment, looking back and forth between the man and the empty doorway. However, it wasn't long before he made up his mind, disregarding the red-haired man and disappearing out the doorway.

As he did so, Jarvis took a step to follow him, but quickly stopped himself. Instead, he squeezed the phone in his hand, leaning dejectedly against a nearby wall.

_"You idiot!" _he winced as he recalled the opening words of the phone call.

_"Vira I can explain-"_

_ "Explain _what_ Jarvis? The fact that the boss was right about you all along? That you really are just a blow-hard who is destined to ruin the entire operation?"_

Jarvis remembered how his heartbeat had quickened at her words. _"He said that?"_

_ "He knew you were too comfortable around them, that despite being told everything they did you were still acting too friendly. He was hoping the incident with their forger would have been enough to slap some sense into you, but apparently he was wrong."_

_"What? Vira, what are you saying?" _

_"I'm saying that they've decided to cut you loose." _She had paused to add more effect to her words. _ "The boss decided that we can't trust you anymore, that keeping you on any longer will only risk you accidentally spilling secrets to them. We can't afford to have any weak assets this late in the game, and right now the only one is you." _

_ "But-"_

_ "Dismiss the forger." _Her tone was final, unsympathetic. _"Tell him that his team is awake and waiting for him outside the building. Dismiss him and then leave. You have 24 hours to disappear, and if you don't, Kavin has been given orders to track you down and kill you. After this phone call this number will be terminated, and if you in any way try to contact any of the team members or us, we will kill you."_

Jarvis was stunned. _"Vira…"_

And just like that, the line had gone dead.

Oo0oO

It had been more than a week since her kidnapping, more than 7 whole days that she had spent rotting away in a cold little cell. For 7 days she had not seen the sun, only a few stray beams that peeked in between her tiny, barred windows. And never in her life outside of those 7 days had Ariadne felt so alone, so afraid, so helpless.

Though she would like to say that her imprisonment became easier to bear as time passed, the truth was that every day it seemed to be getting worse. She could feel herself growing thinner, her skin beginning to turn pale from lack of sunlight. Her once beautiful hair was now tangled and dry, her clothes caked with dirt. She was constantly plagued with nightmares, both the kind that came in dreams… and in the waking world. It was all Ariadne could do to put on a brave face when her captor came in, to keep drawing mazes and act like nothing was wrong.

But she was so, unspeakably afraid. She was afraid for Arthur, of him and the team failing and facing some unknown punishment. She was afraid of her captor, and the insanity that seemed to plague his mind when he was around her. But most of all, she was afraid of losing herself. Above all else, she was afraid that if she _did _eventually get free, she wouldn't be the same, that memories of this place would plague her mind and corrupt her being. It was a horrible thought, but at the same time a possibility she couldn't hide from.

In that exact moment, there came a creak of an opening door, and Ariadne looked up to see the man enter. In one hand he held a dull, gray-colored serving dish, the kind that was divided up into separate sections for each type of food. In the other, he held a lone glass of water. Closing the door behind him, he soon crossed the room, squatting down to put both objects in front of her. Then, meeting her eyes with a steely gaze, he said a single word.

"Eat."

This had become a habit of his, watching her while she ate her food to be sure that she didn't try to starve herself, or possibly even find some way to turn her plastic utensils into a weapon. At first she had been nervous at the idea of him watching her, how his eyes would never leave her until every last morsel was gone. But now, she felt no emotion as he watched her. No, she was numb, and simply gulped her food without emotion or expression.

She was a ghost.

Oo0oO

**A/N: What a depressing chapter… even looking back on it I almost regret all of the misery I caused these characters, especially Ariadne. But that was kind of the point I was trying to get across, how that even when things may seem fine and dandy for the team because they just won another game, the suffering caused by this ordeal doesn't stop there…**

**Anyways, please review! **


	16. Brave Fronts

Chapter 16: Brave Fronts

Oo0oO

After collecting their scattered thoughts, the team slowly made their way out of the building, descending down a flight of well-worn stairs to what they assumed was the way out. As usual, they were silent, each of them distracted by their own take on the matter at hand.

Cobb was perhaps the worst off of the group, though he hid his inner turmoil behind a distant, collective facade that he had adapted after so many years of working in this business. While his outward expression spoke of expectation and thoughtfulness, inside his emotions were raging war in his head. Part of him wanted to believe that choosing L.A. as the next destination was just a coincidence of the game, and that a trip to the city of angels was almost guaranteed in any around-the-world excursion. But the greater, more rational part of his brain told him that it was no mere coincidence, that whoever had planned out this game had known from the beginning about his ties there. His kids. Sophia. Everyone he had ever interacted with could be in possible danger, all a playing piece in a game far more dangerous than any he had ever played. And the worst part was, he wasn't sure how he could save them.

He was supposed to be the leader of this team, the one person who knew what to do when everyone else was lost. But now, like the inception job, he found he was at the mercy of someone far greater than himself. There was no telling of the consequences should they fail, or even what would happen if they won. True, the man behind the mask had promised Ariadne's safe return and his immediate arrest, but Cobb knew better than to believe him. And Cobb had no doubts that the man had considered the team refusing his mysterious request as well. Such was the nature with games such as this; everyone was looking for creative ways to break the rules.

Gloomily pondering this paradox, Cobb had not noticed that Nash had fallen in step beside him, keeping pace and pondering his own thoughts. Despite being at each other's throats a few short minutes ago, a sort of peace had settled between the two men, and Nash was surprised at how comfortable he stood walking next to the man. For as long as he had worked with Cobb, Nash had always known him to be a stern, focused man, one who put the completion of the job above all else. But ever since he agreed to help them rescue their friend, Nash was beginning to see a different side of the extractor. Gone was their fearless, strict leader, replaced by . . . well . . . a man. Nash saw how much it hurt Cobb to see his team tearing itself apart, and how little he could do to stop it. And yet, he composed himself like nothing was wrong, put on a confident face for the sake of the team.

In spite of their differences, Nash could not help but admire the man for that quality. The architect didn't doubt that Cobb was deeply disturbed by the location of the second game, the idea that his friends and family were prey to becoming pawns in this game. And yet, he showed little signs of such a turmoil, his position as the team's headstrong, intelligent leader unwavering. This was something that truly awestruck Nash. Though the architect often put on a bold front, he could never bear the responsibilities of a team like Cobb could. While he hated to admit, he was sure he would crack under such a pressure, running and hiding like he had done so much of his life. That was how he operated. He stayed in this business for the money, but the moment things got hairy he would get the hell out of there. Such had earned him a lot of ridicule over the years.

But he would not run this time. While Nash had always been careful not to get attached to cases, for once he found himself actually caring. For once, it wasn't about the money. Though it was wealth that had initially brought him here, if such was his only motivation than he would have left after the first game. No, he cared about proving himself to be more than the cheap architect everyone thought he was. And more than that, he cared about bringing home this girl, the female architect whose kidnapping had set this entire chain of events in motion. To see all of these men fighting so hard for a single life. . . it had opened his eyes.

Meanwhile, Arthur was also thinking about a certain architect, though his thoughts had hardly left her since the day this whole thing started. Who knew what kind of horrors she had faced at the hands of that madman, locked up in a dark room, somewhere always out of reach. He wished for the world that it was him there instead of her, that he could bear the blunt of this and not her. He had been trained for such a thing, and his body had endured far worse than whatever the man could dish out.

But she could not. She was just a girl, barely out of college and still entirely knew to this business. She was fragile, delicate, and he feared more than anything that the man would break her. Even regular kidnapping had been known to traumatize people, causing a shift in their personalities that were often beyond fixing. But this was far worse. He was a man seeking revenge, likely driven mad by his anger and desperation to make Arthur pay. He was willing to play dirty to get what he wanted, and god knows what he could do to Ariadne if prompted.

Presently, Arthur shivered a bit at the thought. For this was his biggest fear. That even if the team did win, even if Ariadne returned to them and the man was put behind bars, that she would not be the same.

Still consumed by such thoughts, Arthur hadn't even noticed that they had made it outside the building, and were now standing out on the dusty Agra streets once again. By now the sun had dropped even further down in the sky, inching ever closer to the horizon and the inevitable nightfall. Blinking at it, it suddenly occurred to Arthur that they were still missing a forger, and he quickly turned his attention to the area around him. It seemed Cobb and Nash had reached a similar conclusion, for they glanced around with equally troubled expressions.

"Where is he?" Nash asked aloud, unable to mask the slight irritation in his voice.

"He'll be here," Cobb promised, his eyes scanning the nearly abandoned street. "But while we wait I'm going to make some phone calls. Shouldn't be long." Without waiting for a response, he walked off a few steps, pulling out the device and rapidly pushing buttons.

Finding it easier not to question him, Arthur and Nash stood in silence, constantly scanning the area for a sign of their lost forger.

"Looking for me?" a hearty voice behind them spoke, and they spun around to find themselves staring straight at the brute of a man.

"Good of you to finally show up," Arthur recovered, attempting to keep the mood light. More inter-team drama was the last thing they needed right now.

"Well I would have been here sooner if I was in the bloody game. Speaking of which, either of you care to elaborate on exactly what I missed?"

Exchanging a glance with Nash, Arthur relayed the details of the second game to Eames, beginning with the man's introduction of the game and ending with Nash making the final guess. "And it turns out that he was right," the point man concluded, unwilling to go into the debate that followed their exiting the dreamscape.

For a moment, Eames did nothing, silent as he processed everything Arthur had told him. And then, to both Arthur and Nash's great surprised, he began chuckling. "Here I thought we were friends Arthur," he joked, feigning offense. "And yet some second rate forger got you to believe that he was really me?"

Unable to help himself, a small smile crept across Arthur's lips. "In my defense he was anything but second rate."

"Do you tell yourself that so you feel less like an idiot for believing him?"

Arthur smirked. "Good to have you back buddy."

Eames raised his eyebrows, his amusement over the matter giving way to other thoughts. "But honestly now, how did _Nash_ manage to see through the man before you or Cobb?"

At this, Arthur had turned to the architect, who had remained mostly quiet throughout the reunion.

"It's . . . hard to explain," Nash begun simply, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "It felt like 'that' Eames was saying all the right things, just enough to keep us directed towards our goal and yet also enough to keep us bickering. He was the one who explained the tape recorder to us, as well as gave us the information about forgers that lead us all to make wrong assumptions."

Eames slowly nodded at these points, though Arthur remained unexpectedly doubtful. "Still, that doesn't feel like a lot to go on. The same point could be made for Cobb knowing where to find the recorder."

"Exactly, that's why I took so long to speak up. Though, I think the biggest giveaway for me was that the forger was wearing his watch on the wrong wrist."

Eames and Arthur blinked, obviously floored by his accusation.

Perceiving their silence as doubt, Nash hurried to cover his mistake. "What I mean is, since Eames is right-handed he always wears his gold watch on the left, or else it would get in the way. But while their forger performed actions primarily with his right hand, that was also the wrist he wore his watch on."

"Which Eames would never do because he's not left-handed," Arthur finished, impressed.

"And you managed to notice something that minor?" Eames questioned, somewhat in awe.

Nash shrugged, glancing at Arthur as he did so. "I'm an architect; it's my job to pay attention to details."

At this, the men smiled slightly, not missing the allusion.

_And to think that we were at each other's throats just a bit ago_, Arthur mused, looking over the rest of the gathered members. Ever since the beginning of this game, Ariadne's captor had done everything in his power to turn them team against one another, bending their trust and pushing them to their breaking point. Though his methods had not always been so obvious, they were always there, and his silent manipulation had nearly cost them everything in the last game. Added on to the ever-present threat of harm befalling Ariadne, the tension had nearly torn them apart.

And yet, each blow had also made them stronger. Each victory had united them, solidifying their loyalties and determination. Though they would undoubtedly come to blows again in the future, Arthur knew that they would endure together, as a team. They had come to far now to back down.

"We're all set," Cobb announced then, inserting himself back into their group. "I just finalized the flight reservations now. We'll be leaving at 2:00 tomorrow morning."

"Well I didn't plan on getting any sleep anyways," Eames stretched his arms to make a point. "Come on lads let's be off."

Somewhat surprised by the forger's cheery behavior, Cobb hesitated a moment, glancing around at the rest of the team. However, he soon let it go, sighing and beginning to take off in the direction of their hotel.

Arthur however hesitated a moment, turning again to look at the setting sun. _Don't worry Ariadne; _he promised silently, _we're coming. _

Oo0oO

** A/N: I'm back! It's been months guys, and it feels so good to be writing this story again. I apologize for leaving you all hanging, but my time away has allowed me to finish revisions on my other story, and finally work out the plan for TTBU. Before I had no clue what I wanted to do for the third game, and only a rough sketch of the last game and the end of the story. Thankfully I finally got time to work it all out, so hopefully there shall be no more huge delays in the process of writing this. I hope you're all still around, I missed you guys **

**Fun fact: This chapter setup was originally my plan for chapter 15, but I decided it would work much better here instead. Plus, I needed to give Eames and Jarvis a little moment in the last one, which will become slightly relevant near the end of this story. Also, I don't know if it really came across, but something I was really attempting to stress in this chapter is the idea of overcoming. The team is still kind of shaken up by everything that has transpired, but they are overcoming it. Each of them is putting on a brave front (or façade) and focusing on rescuing Ariadne rather than their minor quarrels. In fact, I don't think there are going to be any more inter-team fight scenes after this. **

**As usual, thanks to all the readers! Feel free to review and tell me what you think!**


	17. Home Game

Chapter 17: Home Game

Oo0oO

The next morning found the team begrudgingly aboard their eastbound jet, settled into first class with a solid 19 hour flight ahead of them. While not one of them was looking forward to the trip, Arthur knew that they would all appreciate a breather before diving into their next game. None of them would admit it, but this excursion was taking a lot out of them.

Of course, they were accustomed to the travel that accompanied this line of work, the constant movement required to keep a low profile. In fact, more than once Arthur had mused how rather like sharks they were, him and the other men involved in the dream share program. They were always on the move, caution and speed often the only things keeping them alive in dangerous situations. Yet, their usual business was not nearly as fast-paced as it was now.

Normal jobs would only require a single location and target, and the operation was carried out swiftly over the course of a few hours. After the completion of said job it was only required that the team get out of there without being caught or drawing excessive attention to themselves. Then, things would calm down for a while. Though it was typically unsafe to stay in one location for too long, it also wasn't required to take up another job right away. Depending on the preferences of the specific person, they may not have another job for a few days or a few weeks.

Arthur tended to keep his schedule just between the two mediums, taking up a new job about once a week. Occasionally he would take off a few weeks for some more personal business, but other than that his work remained constant. As a result, this particular job was new territory for him. Kidnapping cases were rare enough, and those that took place on a global scale were basically non-existent. In less than two weeks the team will have traveled to four different locations around the world, all in the name of completing a single job. Had the stakes been any lower, no doubt they would have refused.

However, given the circumstances, it seemed that refusal was out of the question. Thus, the team was subjugated to their third cross-continent flight, left to their own devices as the hours slowly ticked by. Thankfully Cobb had arranged everything in L.A. ahead of time, Sophia generously offering her and Miles' two-story home for the team to stay in. The woman herself would not be there, for she refused to leave Cobb's kids alone while he was on business.

This was something Arthur felt extremely grateful of, especially since the third game would be taking place so close to Cobb's home. Though they were being perhaps a bit superstitious in assuming this man knew about Cobb's connections there, it was a risk the team was not willing to take. And thankfully, neither was Sophia. While her sharp tongue and occasional harshness often tried Arthur's patience, he knew that she would never let harm befall her grandchildren.

It was with this in mind that Arthur and the rest of the team reached their destination, landing at the LAX airport mid-morning. Thankfully the terminal was not as bad as it usually was, and the team managed to gather their bags and their bearings rather quickly. However, getting to their car was an entirely different story, for the streets surrounding the airport were absolute chaos. Buses, taxis, and private cars alike all battled for drop-off zones, everyone in a constant scramble to reach their destinations. It was madness. Organized madness, but madness nonetheless.

Picking their way through the disorder, the team slowly made their way over to one of the nearby parking structures, where Cobb had left his car when he had first departed for London at the beginning of the job. After ascending several levels they managed to locate the vehicle, which was in perfect condition besides the gathering dust of disuse. Then, once the team had loaded in, they were off.

Oo0oO

About 20 minutes later, the team arrived at their destination, Miles and Sophia's summer home in a more suburban part of the Los Angeles area. Though Sophia had offered him free reign over the property during the team's stay, Cobb respectfully opted to park his car on the nearby curb, easing the vehicle to a stop. Putting the car in park, he and the rest of the men piled out, making their way to the trunk in order to unload their things.

However, Nash paused for a moment before doing so, his eyebrows lifting as he examined the home. "This is their summer house?" he questioned, obviously impressed. Immediately he found his eyes scanning over the sleek design of the building, the mainly white exterior accented with deep, rich browns. Though somewhat blocky for his taste, the style had quickly become popular among architects, and succeeded in giving the home a very professional, modern look.

"Not bad," Eames speculated, rolling his bag onto the sidewalk and likewise examining the house. "Though I never really pictured Miles as the kind of man would own a place like this."

"Yes, people do have a tendency to surprise you at times," Cobb added vaguely, indicating his own feelings about the property. Glancing between the two men, the extractor shuffled past them, heading up the narrow path that lead to the front door.

Taking their cue, the rest of the team did not hesitate to follow, waiting a moment for Cobb to unlock the front door before stepping inside. Much like the outside of the house, the interior gave off a distinctly clean, contemporary feel, where dark wood flooring contrasted greatly against predominantly white walls. Most of the furniture displayed various shades of light brown, where modern and classic pieces were distributed expertly throughout the house. However, perhaps the most stunning element of the home was the enormous windows that covered the back wall of the building, which provided an excellent view of a pristine backyard. Truly, it was something straight out of a _Home Goods _magazine.

"Wow," Nash breathed, struggling to keep his expression neutral. However, the rest of the team didn't have it in them to judge him, for they were all silently gawking as well.

"This place is incredible," Arthur added, likewise admiring the home.

"The inside is Sophia's handiwork," Cobb supplied, moving further inside so the rest of the team could fit through the door. "She was always quite proud of it." He paused for a moment here, letting the men appreciate it a few moments longer before getting to business.

"Alright, here's how this is going to work. I'm going to be taking Miles and Sophia's room on the top floor, and the rest of you can fill the guest bedrooms. Unfortunately there's only two, one on the top floor and one on the bottom, so between the three of you you'll have to decide who takes which room. The third person will have to sleep on the couch."

Eames nodded compliantly, already having worked out in his head who would be sleeping where. Nash however had a different concern, looking towards Cobb with a puzzled expression.

"You're not sleeping at your home?"

While he had expected a simple answer, Nash was surprised to see Cobb hesitate for a moment, his tone suddenly defensive. "No, I'm not."

Without saying another word Cobb slowly retreated up the stairs, suddenly seeming tense. Nash instinctively made a move to follow him, but was stopped when Arthur pulled at the back of his suit.

"Just . . . don't." he said slowly, glancing back and forth between Cobb and the architect.

Surprised by Arthur's strange reaction, Nash hesitated, turning back to look at the point man. "What?"

"Dom . . . doesn't want his kids to know he's here," Arthur explained slowly, struggling to phrase the words correctly. "He'd prefer it if he didn't interact with them until after this job is over."

"Well why not?" Nash pushed further, obviously not understanding. "Wouldn't he want to see the-

"It's because he doesn't want to get their hopes up," Eames interjected, his tone momentarily harsh. Before continuing however, he took a breath, regaining composure and lowering his voice. "Look, more than anything else Cobb is afraid of exposing his kids to his work, afraid that they'll somehow get mixed up in the dream share program like Mal did. He doesn't want them to get hurt, and the fact that this game is so close to home unnerves him."

Arthur nodded slightly, his expression grim. "I'm sure you've noticed his behavior since he found out about our third destination. Edgy, defensive. He won't admit it, but he's scared for them. There's still a lot we don't know about the man behind this, and we can't ignore the possibility that he'll attack Dom's kids too." Then he paused, realizing that they were straying from the initial question. Seeking to correct himself, he continued on. "But at the same time we have no guarantee that this man does know. And if by some stroke of luck he doesn't know about Dom's kids, then we don't want to be the ones who help him find out." Finished, Arthur looked to Eames, knowing he had something more to say.

"Cobb's already lost one of the people he loves to this damn job. He's not prepared to lose anyone else."

For a moment, Nash said nothing, his face stoic as he recalled something from earlier. When the team was preparing to leave Agra, Nash thought he had noticed a bit of anxiety within Cobb, anxiety which the architect had attributed to the fact that his children could potentially be in danger. And while Nash now knew that he had assumed so correctly, he also acknowledged that he had missed something in the extractor's expression. Pain.

More than simply fearing for his kids' safety, Cobb wished to protect them, to keep them out of this wretched game and out of the hands of the man behind it all. As Arthur had just confirmed, the extractor was willing to go to any means to shield them from the dream-share program, to keep them out of the life that he had spent so long trying to escape. Even if that meant being apart from them. Though Nash was not a father himself, he recognized that such was perhaps the hardest thing for a parent to do.

Returning to the present, Nash glanced back up the stairs, a new appreciation for the team's leader dawning on him. "I understand."

"Good," Arthur relaxed a bit, relieved that Nash had taken opposition so well. Perhaps their team was truly growing closer after all.

"Yes quite. Though before we relax we still need to resolve the issue of our sleeping arrangement," Eames commented, drawing their attention back to the issue.

"Oh, right." Arthur sighed.

"Now, would you all prefer we pick at random or fight over the bedrooms verbally?"

"Neither actually, I'll take the couch." Nash interposed, causing both Arthur and Eames to look towards him abruptly.

"Nash, you know that's not necessary," Arthur argued, examining the man curiously.

"I know, but I don't mind. I've slept in a lot stranger places before," he countered, surprisingly honest.

"Haven't we all?" Eames flashed a knowing smirk. "In any case, I guess I'll take the lower bedroom then, Arthur you can take the upper one."

"Alright. I'm glad we got that settled." Nash smiled, picking up his bags.

"Likewise," Arthur agreed, also gathering his things. And then, just like that, the men separated, each making their way to their respective bedrooms. As he ascended the steps to the second level, however, Arthur couldn't help but smile a bit. Yes, it did seem that they truly were becoming a team.

Oo0oO

** A/N: Feel free to review! Thanks to all the readers!**

** Oh and for reference, I imagined the inside of Miles' house to be kinda like this:  
>simgse36184bb01af4e70_ **


	18. Compromised

Chapter 18: Compromised

Oo0oO

On the dawning of the third day, the sun shone brightly over the city of L.A., shining almost optimistically over the smoggy city. Beneath a baby blue sky, clusters of gray buildings reached for the heavens, their black-tinted windows refracting the sunlight over the pedestrians far below. Among them, the team strode resolutely towards their destination, ignoring the flashy city signs meant to attract tourists.

Though it had been labeled on their envelope that the Grauman Chinese Theatre was in L.A., the truth was that the building actually lay in the heart of Hollywood, and remained one of the more popular attractions on the famous Hollywood Boulevard. As a result, the area around the building was quite packed with people, most of whom had tendencies to stop in the middle of the sidewalk in order to take pictures of stars on the Hollywood walk of fame.

This, Arthur thought to himself, was quite an over-glorified act. While it remained true that receiving a star on the walk of fame was quite the achievement, the actual stars themselves were not all that impressive. All they truly were was names on a sidewalk. And yet, fans eagerly flocked to the stars of their favorite celebrities, causing the team to have to constantly move around them in order to keep pace. Though not nearly as bad as New York, the people made walking in a group of four quite a difficult task.

"You think they'd let up eventually," Eames sneered, moving out of the way for a young Asian couple passing to his left.

"It could be worse," Cobb added, ever the realist. Yet, even he had to admit the crowds were a bit ridiculous at times.

But thankfully the team needn't put up with the crowds too much longer, for they very soon reached their destination, the distinct Chinese architecture of the building immediately causing it to stand out from most everything else along the street. At the very front of the building, two reddish-orange pillars immediately drew the attention of spectators, along with two strange metal structures that clung near the top of the columns. Between the two, a giant carving of a dragon adorned the wall, standing guard over the sets of golden doors that provided entrance to the theatre. At the top of the building, a sloped green roof dominated the skyline, likewise decorated in intricate metal struts.

"Impressive," Arthur remarked, his eyes casually strolling over the structure.

Nodding, Cobb quickly scanned over the assorted crowd, immediately recognizing a lone woman standing not far from the main entrance. "There's our escort," he indicated in her general direction. "Come on."

Not wasting a moment, the team swiftly made their way to her position, slowing to a stop just a few feet in front of her.

Upon seeing them, her already present frown deepened, her nostrils flaring slightly. "Took you long enough," she huffed, her tone clearly annoyed.

Without waiting for a response from the team, she stalked off in the opposite direction from where the team had come. Much like at the beginning of the previous game, the team was left with little choice but to follow after the woman, having to hurry slightly in order match her abrupt pace. As usual, her demeanor was incurably cold, and Arthur could practically feel hostility pouring off of her in waves. Yet, at the same time he thought he recognized something different in her conduct, an emotion past her typically severe exterior. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought she seemed a bit more . . . tense than she had during their previous encounters, even somewhat edgy. Though she took care to keep her countenance as emotionless as she could manage, the point man was sure that he recognized something there.

However, it wasn't until the team reached their transportation vehicle that Arthur was able to truly identify it, when Cobb accidently brushed into her when entering the back seat. Instead of becoming infuriated by it or simply dismissing the action, the woman actually recoiled slightly.

She was afraid.

Of course, identifying the emotion did not satisfy Arthur's curiosity, and in fact only sent a thousand other questions raging through his mind. Why was this woman, who had until this point had come across as strictly indifferent towards them, suddenly afraid? And was it even fear that he saw there, or something else? What specifically had caused this seemingly uncharacteristic reaction? Was her negative response directed solely towards Cobb, or did it expand to the rest of the team? And most jarringly of all, had this emotion existed there all along, but had and the rest of the team had simply been too distracted to see it?

Questions such as these swarmed through the point man's head as he moved to sit beside Cobb in the car, struggling to recall the team's past encounters with the woman as a means of reference. However, before he could get far on these thoughts he was interrupted by a voice to his right.

"Arthur. Are you okay?" Nash drew the point man out of his reflection, his face somewhat concerned.

Easing himself back to the present, Arthur exhaled slightly. "Yeah I'm . . . I'm fine. I was just thinking."

As he said this, the point man already felt the thought beginning to leave his head. With a third person's perspective on the subject, Arthur was able to acknowledge that there was little chance that her response had meant anything of significance. While the action had seemed strange to him, it was hard to ignore the point that he hardly even knew anything about this woman, and had probably been doting on minor details as a means of distracting himself from the task at hand. Hell, he didn't even know her name.

Satisfied with his analysis, Arthur was about to settle back in his seat when he caught a glimpse of Eames out of the corner of his eye. Though his brain would have normally dismissed it as unnecessary background information, something about the forger's look stopped him. The man appeared to be determinedly pondering something, much in the same way that Arthur had been a second ago. There was even the same look of confusion and focus etched into his face, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. And, again much like the point man, he was staring straight at the woman.

Oo0oO

It was a few short minutes before they reached their destination, the driver taking back roads as much as possible to avoid the heavier traffic surrounding the main streets. After passing through several run-down neighborhoods and putting at least a few miles between them and the theatre, the woman took a hard left into a parking lot, wasting little time pulling into a spot and yanking the keys from the ignition.

"We're here," she said curtly, pulling open the car door and placing one of her delicate stiletto heels on the pavement below. Glancing back at the men to make sure they understood, she lifted herself out of the vehicle, slamming the door and facing away from them. Not needing an invitation, Arthur and the others wasted no time exiting their means of transportation, gathering their supplies and moving towards their escort.

Once they had all exited the car she set a course for the nearest building; a run-down sort of inn that in every sense resembled a Motel 6, excluding the sign that would have identified it as so. Besides themselves and a stray cat lingering near the dumpster, the place looked utterly deserted. Yet, the woman paid no mind to this, mounting the nearest flight of stairs and heading for the second floor. Though they creaked under the weight of all five of them, the metal steps managed to support their weight, allowing the team to ascend to the next level.

There, they passed four rusty green doors before they came to a stop in front of the fifth, which was marked with the half-faded digits 020. Reaching into her pocket, the woman pulled out a single golden key, jamming it in the lock and busting open the door.

On the other side was a classic, single-bedroom motel room, occupied mostly by an ancient queen bed that was shoved up against the adjacent wall. Though stripped of its sheets and pillows, the stained mattress still lay in place, looking like it hadn't been touched in over a decade. Against the wall opposite the bed, there was just enough floor space for the management to shove in two splintering wooden chairs, which had likewise been stripped of their pillows. Directly across from the entrance, another door leading to the bathroom lay slightly ajar.

Not one to gawk, the woman quickly moved inside, waiting for the men to pile in before closing the door behind them.

"I suggest you get comfortable," she droned, setting the PASIV on the corner of the mattress. "The game will begin as soon as you are ready."

Exchanging glances, the team arranged themselves around the machine, Cobb and Eames settling into the two chairs, Arthur taking the bed, and Nash settling down onto the floor.

"Anything you can tell us before we start?" the architect asked with feigned innocence, obviously referring to the surprising twist of the second game.

Catching his meaning, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly, before she abruptly turned her attention to the PASIV. "Nothing that would be of use to you," she responded smoothly, distributing the IVs to the team. "Just try not to die before it's over."

"Wasn't planning on it," Eames breathed, getting comfortable on his chair.

Choosing to ignore his last statement, the woman glanced at each of the men, assured that they had all inserted the plastic tubes. And then, with the flick of a switch, all went dark.

Oo0oO

When Arthur came to, he found himself looking over the skyline of yet another city, the peaks of buildings rising and falling before his very eyes. Much like in the first dream, metropolis felt incredibly bland, void of anything that would allow him to distinguish it from any of the world's other great cities. And yet, it felt so incredibly real, the fact simple fact that I was so difficult to identify making it that much easier to believe. The ideal dreamscape.

"You gotta admire the architect who designed this place," Cobb commented from beside him, likewise admiring the view. "These details are remarkable."

Glancing over at the extractor from the corner of his eye, Arthur was able to catch a glint of jealousy in Cobb's gaze, a longing to create that Arthur knew had long plagued the man. As he had once told Ariadne, once you start it's hard to stop.

"I'll admit it's pretty impressive," a voice from behind called their attention, and Arthur turned to see Nash and Eames likewise admiring their surroundings.

"If only you were half as good," Eames added nonchalantly to the architect's original thought.

Though Nash opened his mouth to make a retort, Arthur took the opportunity to jump in. "Guys we're not here to debate who's the better architect. We need to focus on finding out the details of this game."

"_Oh no take all the time you need"_, a new voice cut in, causing all of the men to jump. "_After all it's not like we're on a deadline or anything." _

Blinking, Arthur quickly scanned the area, identifying a PA system in the corner of the room that was projecting the man's voice. Though his instinctive thought had been to track down this man so they could finally learn his identity, Arthur internally cursed at the speaker. With a system like that, he could be anywhere in the building, and he could likely pull himself out of the dreamscape before the team even got close.

Meanwhile, Cobb had gathered himself and cleared his throat, preparing to address the man. "Well, we're here. What do you want us to do?"

"_Ah straightaway as always Dominick. I like your style. But speaking of you Dominick, how are your kids these days?"_

In the silence that followed the question, you could have heard a pin drop.

"_What are their names again? James . . . and Phillipa?"_

"What do you want with them?" Cobb's question came hard and fast, and without looking Arthur could tell that the extractor had answered through clenched teeth.

"_No need to jump to conclusions, _the voice said defensively, _I only asked you a simple question. I'm no monster; I wouldn't pull innocents into the dreamscape. Besides, this whole game of mine isn't about you."_

"Then let's get back to the third game," Arthur steered the man's attention towards him, not trusting that Cobb could maintain his composure for much longer.

_ "Oh yes of course the game. Back to the original question, this game does not require something that you must do, simply a place that you must go." _

"Go?" Nash echoed, likewise not giving Cobb a chance to speak.

"_Indeed. The current building you are residing in lies on the very west end of the dreamscape, or at least, as west as we have been able to plan out. The window in front of you is facing towards the east, and the part of the city where this next game will take place." _There was a slight pause. "_If you look out over the horizon you may be able to see a tower, the tip of which extends above all of the other buildings you are able to see. You all have exactly one hour to get to the top floor of that building. You may take any means of transportation necessary as well as employ any method you find fitting. In addition, you will find that I have provided you each with one hand gun, which can be found on the table in the corner of the room."_

Upon mentioning it, Eames immediately approached said table, holding up pistols and handing one to each team member.

"Sounds easy enough," Nash commented, taking the gun in hand.

_ "Perhaps . . . and perhaps not. I will warn you that the streets are stocked with men aiming to kill you, so any methods you take, direct or indirect, may prove quite difficult." _

"Oh," Nash faded off.

Sensing the conversation had reached its end, the rest of the team tensed ever so slightly, preparing for their abrupt dismissal.

"_Oh no I'm not done yet." _The man cut in, causing Arthur to flinch. If he saw their preparation, that meant the man had eyes and ears on the building. However, upon searching Arthur was frustrated to find no visible camera.

"_Before I let you go, there is one piece of business I would like to discuss." _The man continued. "_After the last game, I believe that a certain member of your team had a rather . . . interesting discussion with one of my subordinates." _

Confused, the team hesitated, none of them exactly sure what would fit into the man's definition of "interesting". However, all eyes soon turned to Eames, who had made no movement, and continued to stare stoically at the PA system.

"What of it?"

There was a slight laugh. "_No need to be so dramatic Mr. Eames, this has little to do with your rather violent reaction to assistant's entrance . . . on either occasion. This is about the assistant himself, the man named Jarvis." _

"What about him?" Arthur interrupted, surprised by how quickly he had sprung up to defend him.

The man however made no comment on this. "_It seems that Jarvis got a bit too . . . attached to your team while performing his duties, began playing a greater role than merely that of an escort. Initially I overlooked it, but it soon became a bit difficult to ignore. Though I doubt it was any of your intentions that he did so, Jarvis came dangerously close to revealing information to you, giving you his trust."_

Here there was another pause, in which the man's previously playful tone began to drop dangerously. "_I warn you, if you attempt to extract any information out of your escorts, if you attempt to become close to them, even if you begin to have idle conversations that may cause me to question their loyalty, I _will not_ hesitate to eliminate them." _

Now there came a longer pause, as the speaker allowed his warning to sink in. During this time, no one said anything, though the same thought flashed through all of their minds. After a suitable amount of time had passed, the voice returned. "_And the third game begins now. Good luck." _

Oo0oO

**A/N: Haha look at me avoiding actually writing the third game again . . . but I assure you this was totally necessary, especially because it allows explanation to that seemingly pointless chapter with Eames and Jarvis, as well as something else that I just wrote in. Also, it debunks the whole using Cobb's kids thing. YES I could have totally used it as a plot element in which the man kidnaps Cobb's children and blah blah blah, but instead I'm just using it as a silent threat. Don't hate me for building that suspense for nothing, but this isn't about Cobb. **

**Please review!**


	19. Stands and Falls

Chapter 19: Stands and Falls

Oo0oO

The silence that followed the end of the man's explanation was inevitable, as was the fresh tension that sprung about the room. The third game had begun, time was beginning to slip away, yet for a few precious moments not one of the men could bring themselves to move. For this was the game that the man behind this played; not one of the physical realm, but a game that took place within each of their minds. All it took was a few sentences, just a few threats to temporarily shatter their composure, their focus, their stability as a team. And yet, it was enough.

Besides Nash, Arthur was perhaps the best off of them, though the shock and anger radiating from the rest of the team was enough to stagger him as well. If the man had crossed a line by merely mentioning the names of Cobb's kids, his implications regarding the team's escorts had completely destroyed the line altogether. Until this point, they had identified Ariadne's captor simply as a man seeking revenge, someone with a great sum of wealth who had just enough insanity in him to formulate this game. He was someone who acted quickly and carefully; maintaining a constant, condescending persona which carefully shielded whatever emotions he might be feeling. However, not one of the men would have thought him capable of murder.

Despite the man's previous threats regarding what would happen to Ariadne if they did not play his game, he had always left them open-ended, never giving definition to her fate. Additionally, he and his accomplices had shown little tendency towards aggression, their primary focus being the execution of each game. So the thought that he would have so willingly ended someone's life . . .

Instinctively, Arthur glanced towards Eames, still confused by the forger's connection to Jarvis. Though there was mention of a conversation between the two of them, Arthur couldn't imagine . . .

"It was nothing," Eames said aloud, drawing their attention. "To answer your unspoken questions, he didn't tell me anything. When I came to after the second game I questioned Jarvis about what was going on, and about where I was. We had a conversation, but before he could reveal anything he received a call and left. That's it." Eames turned toward Cobb, looking him steadily in the eyes. "There was nothing he said that would have deserved him this."

Again, there was a pause, where Eames and Cobb locked eyes in the middle of the simulated office. Though his expression was grim, there was a slight tremble in the forger's eyes that caught Arthur a bit off guard. It was guilt. More than elaborating on what the man had said, Eames was apologizing.

The forger knew, undoubtedly, that there were no words he could have said, no amount of regret he could express to right this wrong. For it was not his fault, and yet, Eames was responsible for Jarvis's death. However innocent his intent, the truth remained that every interaction, every snide remark and aggressive retort he made towards Jarvis had attributed to this outcome. And, being unable to give an apology to the one person who deserved it, he had turned to Cobb.

Letting the silence draw out for another few seconds, the blonde-haired man exhaled, closing his eyes as he did so. "I know," Cobb responded, his eyes snapping open. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. The fault lies only on the man behind this, no one else." Here he paused, making sure his statement sunk in. "But right now we need to get moving, there's nothing more that can be done."

The forger said nothing, his gaze shifting to the side.

"Eames, do you understand me?" Cobb pressed, not about to let this drop.

After taking a moment to gather himself, Eames returned his eyes to the extractor. "Yes."

"Good," Cobb relaxed a bit, though his mouth was still set in a frown. "Then let's go."

After glancing quickly at the other team members, Cobb headed towards the door, pulling it open and stepping through. Not wanting to be left gawking, the rest of the men followed shortly, moving in a tight group down the adjacent hallway.

"So what's the plan?" Arthur supplied, doing his part to keep their focus on the mission.

"We head for the tower," Cobb responded evenly, keeping his pace brisk. "Though it'll attract more attention from the projections, we'll need to move in a single group. That way we won't risk being separated and waste time trying to find each other."

Nash nodded. "Since stealth isn't going to be an option I suggest we take the first vehicle we see. Even if we don't make it all the way we can at least make some progress."

"Good idea," Cobb praised the architect, raising an eyebrow but making no verbal remark on his contribution.

Arthur however, found it a bit more difficult to hide his reaction, giving the man a quizzical look.

"What?" Nash turned toward the point man, coming to a stop with the rest of the team as they reached the elevator.

"Nothing," Arthur recovered quickly, not meeting his eyes. Truthfully, though, he was likewise surprised by Nash's comment, and more than slightly grateful. With Eames uncharacteristically shaken and Cobb already on edge, the last thing the team needed at the moment was to have to deal with Nash's somewhat childish antics. And despite being one of the better architects-for-hire, it had admittedly taken a while for the inception team to adjust to having him back, which would have made him an easy target for either Eames or Cobb's pent up emotions.

Yet, Nash seemed to know this, and had carefully withheld from making any irrelevant comments. Even as the team finalized their plan on the trip to the first floor, his more sarcastic, innocent nature had all but disappeared, replaced instead by fierce dedication. Though it was unnerving for Arthur to think of it in this way, it was almost as if he was filling in for Eames.

At the thought of the forger, Arthur had instinctively looked toward the man, who had been lingering near the back of the group. Though Arthur was sure Eames knew he was looking back at him, the man gave no indication of noticing, his eyes fixed straight ahead. As expected, the forger's expression was unreadable, and the point man could only imagine the emotions raging behind those blue-green eyes.

"How's this?" Nash's voice drew Arthur's attention, and he turned around to see the architect standing before a black Nissan Pathfinder.

"It's good," Cobb agreed, walking away from a silver sedan he had been inspecting a moment ago. "But now for the important question, who's going to drive it?"

"I will," said a voice from Arthur's left, as Eames stepped forward.

"Eames I can't let you do this," the extractor insisted, his tone soothing so as not to provoke him. "You-

"Dom," he interjected, his gaze piercing. "Don't start this with me. I'm the best driver here and you know it, so don't give me any of that 'you're emotionally compromised shit'. You need me for this."

Cobb hesitated a moment, his eyes scanning the forger as if he was deciding whether or not to believe him. "Are you positive you can do this?"

"Yes." Eames didn't waver. In that moment, Arthur saw the quiver in his eyes disappear, his doubt suddenly replaced with a look of fury and determination. "Let's show them just who they're dealing with."

Oo0oO

"That was very risky of you, you know," a deep, male voice spoke in a distinctly African accent. "What if they had seen you?"

"But they didn't," another man snapped, who's voice would easily be recognizable to the team as the man who had begun this horrid game.

"But what if they did?" the first speaker continued, pressing. "You're lucky they were distracted by your teasing, so they didn't think on the fact that your message was not pre-recorded."

"Stop talking about what _could_ have happened. It's done, and I'm out. That's that."

"Yes, but I still can't justify your reason for doing it in the first place." He continued, sounding confused. "It's one thing to contact one of them on a telephone from the opposite side of the city, but . . . and I mean no disrespect sir, but I have to know. Why did you go after them into the dreamscape?"

At this, the man actually stopped, unsure of how to respond. The first speaker was of course referring to his presence in the third game, where he had spoken to the team via a customized P.A. system that transmitted their responses as well as his. This way, it had worked sort of like a telephone, set up in the exact building and floor where the team appeared in the dreamscape. By positioning himself in an adjacent building, and speaking through the system, the man had watched the entire beginning of the third game unfold before his eyes.

However, this was not what the first speaker was concerned with. He wanted to know why, why they had gone through all of the trouble to set up the system and got him in the dreamscape, just so he could interact with the team and then pull out. As the first man had noted, Arthur and the others easily could have seen him, and they almost did too when they looked out the window upon their first entrance into the dreamscape.

And yet . . .

"You're afraid, aren't you boss?" The first speaker said suddenly, sounding genuinely surprised.

The man looked up abruptly. "What?"

"They're getting close to the end, and you're afraid." It wasn't a question, though the speaker's voice was curious. "You're scared because they're not. That's why you went in, because a recording wouldn't scare them enough. You had to sound close, all knowing, intimidating . . . You're trying to break them again."

The man just blinked, his brow furrowing. "Kavin -"

"But you don't think it's going to work," the man, Kavin, continued. "I can see it in your eyes. They're getting better. If they were going to snap they would have done so by now."

The man sighed, fighting back a sudden urge to lash out. "Get out," he said through gritted teeth, indicating in the direction of the door. "Leave . . . before I do something that I regret."

Wordlessly, Kavin went, moving obediently across the room before closing the door behind him with a soft thud. Now alone in the room, the man stood hunched over a thick wooden desk, gripping it until his knuckles turned white with the effort. Then, with a sudden fit of rage, he cried out, slamming his first into the heavy oak. Almost immediately, searing pain raced through his hand, and he winced as he tried to prevent himself from crying out again. However, he made no attempt to nurse his hand, just leaving it there, all clenched up like that on the desk. Instead, he sat there in silence, listening as the sound of his scream echoed throughout the tiny, gray building.

Somewhere below him, in a room filled with darkness, a girl trembled.

Oo0oO

** A/N: Sorry this chapter is just another tease before the real action of the game, but this game isn't actually anything exciting. I've already had enough dramatic, character testing scenes, so the actual bulk of the third game basically just consists of yelling, shooting, ducking for cover, and then moving forward. As much as I'd love to stretch out the game for you guys, I can't write multiple chapters of that. So this really all there is to the third game part one. If you're disappointed . . . that's just how it is. Hopefully the next chapter will make up for it.**

** Feel free to review! Thanks to all the readers out there!**


	20. The Dream Team Pt 1

Chapter 20: The Dream Team Part 1

Oo0oO

For the first few minutes after the team left their starting position, everything was quiet. Not quiet in the sense that they didn't meet resistance . . . but completely silent. The streets were empty, the sidewalks abandoned, and there wasn't a single person in sight. In fact, besides the dull humming of their car's own engine, the city was completely silent.

"Well this looks familiar," Nash said off-handedly, his tone caught between amusement and concern.

Cobb gave a small noise of agreement, clutching his handgun tightly.

"But that's the problem, it _all_ looks familiar," Eames added bitterly, not taking his eyes off the road. "We've been driving for a solid four minutes now and I still can't tell if we're any closer to the damn tower." He gave a dark chuckle. "To think, we'll end up failing the second to last game just because we got lost."

From his position directly behind the forger, Arthur said nothing, choosing simply to look out the car window at the city beyond. Despite seemingly having the entire city to themselves, any progress they had made towards the tower was painfully slow. Even without having to deal with projections, the city's layout was insanely elaborate, the roads arranged in such a complex manner that even having a map would do the men little good. Almost every other turn seemed to lead them to a dead end, if not back the way they had originally came from. Retracing their steps too seemed like a pointless action, for each new street they came across looked exactly like the one they had just come from. Honestly, it was a nightmare.

Still gazing out the window, Arthur was startled when he saw a movement in his peripheral vision, specifically that of a gray car reflected in Eames's side view mirror. Though it was far enough behind them that the point man couldn't immediately identify the model, it was catching up. Fast.

"Eames, we've got company," Arthur motioned behind them, watching as the forger glanced out his window for confirmation.

"Shit." Eames slammed down hard on the brake pedal, drifting around a hard right turn before punching the gas. Not five seconds afterward, their pursuers likewise rounded the corner, hot on the team's tail.

"They're still coming," Nash stated glumly, his tone hardening. "And we're losing our lead."

Cursing again, Eames took the next left turn, obviously hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of dead ends. However, at that very moment, the road opened up, the side streets all but vanishing. Without warning, the narrow roads they had become familiar with gained an extra lane, and any intersecting roads becoming few and far between.

"Oh you've got to be kidding," Eames grip slackened a bit, his expression incredulous.

"Stay focused." Cobb commanded, seizing control of the situation. "If we can't lose them then we'll have to just outrun them."

"Cobb?" Arthur called to the extractor hesitantly, pointing out the back window. While the team had been distracted, their number of pursuers had suddenly tripled, and they were being followed by not one car but three, one in each of the two lanes plus a third driving down the middle. Though it was difficult to tell how many people were in each car, the team could assume they were being pursued by at least 12 men.

"Where the _hell _did they come from?" Nash vocalized, his frown deepening.

"I don't think there numbers are what we should be concerned with right now," Cobb retorted, watching their pursuers draw closer and closer.

"What?" Nash retorted, missing the point.

"We should have been passed by now. They're clearly in faster vehicles, especially if two more cars managed to catch up the first when we weren't paying attention. If they had intentions of over-taking us, they would have done so by now."

"Then why don't they?" Arthur wondered aloud, though his mind came up with an answer before he could finish the sentence. Whipping around toward the front, he found his assumption to be accurate. Coming towards them from the opposite direction, three more cars sped down the road, their formation identical to that of the cars behind them.

"They're going to use themselves to take us down," Eames answered Arthur's question, having likewise been the first of the men to see them coming.

"They know they can afford to lose a few projections. But if they take down just one of us we're done for." Nash continued, obviously impressed.

"But I don't intend to let the happen." The forger clutched the steering wheel tightly, pressing his foot down hard on the gas.

"Eames you're not seriously considering what I think you are." Cobb blinked, watching the dark-haired man with a concerned expression.

"It's our only option right now." He responded tersely, obviously preparing himself.

Guessing the forger's plan of action, Arthur joined Cobb in his opposition. "Eames he's right, I don't see how this is any better than driving straight into them."

"Well if it works right it involves living, so that's a bonus. Now everybody get ready, Nash I suggest you get ready to dive."

"Get ready to what-

"Now!"

In a swift motion, Eames yanked the wheel hard to the left, causing the rear of the SUV to swing out hard to the right. Before it could continue this circular motion however, the right side of the Nissan caved in as it was rammed with the front end of the lead car. Had Cobb and Nash not flung themselves to the left not a moment before, this likely would have killed them. Instead, the Pathfinder was flung into the air, the abrupt stop of the motion sending the vehicle _over _that of the pursuers. Flipping once in midair, the car continued this motion once it reconnected with the street, rolling over once more before stopping with its wheels face up.

Though the entire event had only taken a few seconds, inside the vehicle time had seemed to slow down. Arthur recalled in perfect detail how the gray car had plowed into the door of the Nissan, how the entire car shuddered as metal grinded against metal. He likewise recalled how Nash had dived toward him just a moment before the impact, fear and adrenaline giving the architect the extra strength he needed to avoid being crushed. Additionally, Arthur recalled a brief loss of gravity, his sense of direction thrown off as the Nissan was flung into the air in a sort of sideways barrel roll.

However, the moment the vehicle was back on the ground things had sped up again, and Arthur clenched his teeth as the car skidded across the pavement. Then, when the car did stop, the fascination he had felt moments before disappeared, replaced with a dizzying pain. Yet, there was no time to rest, and after a moment of wrestling with the seatbelt he managed to get free. Beside him, Nash was struggling to steady himself, enduring the stunt without a seatbelt having left him worse for wear.

Wordlessly, the point man offered a hand, and together they managed to pull themselves out of the wreckage through a shattered window. Meanwhile, Arthur saw Cobb and Eames attempting do the same, their faces strained with pain from the effort. Exchanging a glance, Arthur and Nash went to help them, pulling the men out on the pavement and moving them away from the car.

"You okay?" Arthur helped Eames to his feet, who wobbled a bit before standing up on his own.

"More or less, just a few really nasty bruises," he answered through clenched teeth, clutching his side as he did so.

Arthur nodded. "Cobb?"

"Alive, but not by much." He coughed slightly, leaving it at that.

"Nash?"

"I'll live-" he winced, cutting himself off before he could say more. "But I don't think I'll be using this arm anytime soon." Moving his hand away from his right forearm, Arthur cringed when he saw the architect had been covering a jagged red cut. About 6 inches long, the wound looked sickeningly painful, and had already begun to stain Nash's jacket a deep red.

Without hesitation, Eames took off his own coat, tearing off one of the sleeves with intentions of wrapping the wound. Meanwhile, Cobb approached the architect.

"Are you going to be able to shoot?" he asked simply, as the forger began tending to Nash.

The architect shook his head, handing his gun to the blonde-haired man. "Not well."

Saying nothing, Cobb cautiously took Nash's weapon, examining it for a moment before shoving it in his belt. Then he stepped back, wanting to give Eames some room to treat the architect. However, the moment he had done so, a loud bang rang out from across the street, causing him and the rest of the team to immediately duck down behind the car.

"Damn. I'm surprised they managed to recover so quickly." Arthur frowned, shoving a fresh clip into his gun.

"Likewise," Cobb responded grimly, peering over the top of the car to fire off a few shots. Despite their distance, Cobb's third bullet hit home, and one of their closer pursuers fell to the ground.

"Eames we have to get moving, if we stay out in the open like this we're literally sitting ducks," Nash urged him, attempting to push away.

"Give me a minute; we're not going to make it to the end of this game if you bleed out on us before we get there." The forger snapped, giving the shorter man a deadly look.

The architect held his tongue.

"Eames Nash is right, we have to get moving," Arthur added, taking out another projection before pausing to reload.

"I said give me a minute!" He had just then began tying the final knot on Nash's bandages, using his mouth to keep the fabric in place. With one last, rough tug, he had finished, stepping back abruptly. "We're good, let's go!"

Not wasting a moment, the team stumbled away from the vehicle, Cobb and Eames pausing every few steps to shoot at the remaining projections. Arthur meanwhile had taken the lead, directing the team out of the open and back into a maze of side streets and back allies. Though it wasn't a desirable course for them to take, anything was better than being exposed to direct fire.

Once they had moved out of the open, Cobb moved beside Arthur near the front, confident that Eames could handle the remaining projections. "We can't afford to waste any time," he said simply, glancing over the rest of the team. "Now that we're out of a vehicle it'll be harder for them to find us, but the going will be slower. I don't doubt that whoever's subconscious this is has more mobile groups patrolling these back routes, so we shouldn't let our guard down. While I don't think we'll be up against any heavy artillery, ambushes should be out biggest concern, so it's important we stay vigilant at all times."

"Right," Arthur, Nash, and Eames said simultaneously, their concentrations subsequently sharpening.

"From now on we should assume time is always against us. We'll have to take every shortcut we see, no matter how dangerous, and make use of every bullet we have." He added, meeting each of their gazes individually. "We can't stop moving, even for a moment."

From his position near the center of the group, Nash smirked slightly, amusement finding its way into his voice. "Don't worry, we've got it Cobb. The only one slowing us down now is you."

Though Arthur was whole-heartedly expecting a negative response to the architect's last comment, he was surprised to see Cobb actually smile, determination flaring in his eyes.

"Right then. Let's not waste any more time."

Oo0oO

**A/N: So this chapter was originally supposed to be about 300 words longer, including a bunch of totally awesome content that involves a lot of the team's battles throughout the third game . . . but I had to cut it. Originally I planned to have this chapter be the entire game, but there's just too much content I needed to squeeze in, therefore I had to cut this section short. So this half of the game isn't super exciting, in fact it's probably the lesser of the two parts of this game. But of course, this will just make part 2 all the more exciting. ;)**

** Don't forget to review! Though before I go I want to give a quick shoutout to  
><strong>_audrey-pinklimepanda_**, who has been an avid reader and reviewer on my story for quite a while now. She hasn't written any stories of her own yet, but she's been extremely supportive through these last few chapters, and therefore I feel the need to tell you all to follow her anyways. **

** Thanks again to all the readers!**


	21. The Dream Team Pt 2

Chapter 21: The Dream Team Part 2

Oo0oO

For the next 40 minutes, the team fought their way through more projections than they could ever hope to count, who employed every method possible in attempts to kill them. At first they only faced a few small patrol-like groups, which were typically taken down before they even knew what had hit them. As time went on, however, the projections seemed to adopt more guerilla-like tactics, using their knowledge of the team's destination against them.

The men gradually found themselves fighting more and more often in hand-to-hand combat, the enemy finding that close-range weapons did little good against the highly mobile group. In light of this, rooftop snipers also became a more frequent issue, and Arthur found that the team had to rely more and more on hiding in the shadows as time went on. Despite this, they hardly ever broke pace, pushing onwards with great determination and prowess.

As they fought, they found that each individual team member brought something unique to their overall group, which collectively rendered the men unstoppable. Though he still was in no shape to fire a weapon, Nash was surprisingly skilled in close-combat scenarios, using his long legs and limber body to his advantage. Additionally, because he was already visibly injured, he almost seemed to lure these fighters towards him. Eames was predictably the best shot of the group, his deadly accuracy with a pistol allowing him to plow through ground patrols easily. Arthur's greatest contribution came from the very definition of being the team's point man, specifically his calm, calculating nature. When facing snipers or other long-range threats, he was usually the one to navigate them to safety, careful timing allowing him to guide the team through the shadows at just the right moments. And Cobb of course assumed his natural position of the team's leader, barking quick commands when necessary and generally keeping them together.

It was a simple system, but it worked wonders.

Then, after what felt like hours of senseless warfare, the team finally reached their destination. Though the tower had appeared large enough when observed from the opposite end of the city, viewed from directly beneath it the structure felt impossibly large. If Arthur had to guess, he'd say it was at least 50 stories tall, the building stretching impossibly far into the simulated blue sky. Almost the entire surface of the structure was covered in large, black-tinted windows, giving the fortress a malevolent feel. At the very top, the four corners of the roof joined together to form a pointed tip.

"There's no mistaking it, this is the place," Cobb stated simply, crossing his arms. "Eames, Nash, check the perimeter, I don't want to run into any surprises."

Nodding slightly, the two men split up, each man beginning a cautious investigation of the building's exterior.

"What do you expect to find?" Arthur questioned, watching Eames disappear into an adjacent alley.

"Nothing if I'm correct. Since this game had a set ending point from the very beginning, it's only logical to assume we're walking into a trap, one that's going to be triggered the moment we walk through the front door. I'm hoping for, but not expecting, to find a second way in."

"What if they don't find anything?"

Cobb paused, though he had obviously anticipated the point man's question. "Then it looks like we don't have much of a choice. I'm guessing that, in the spirit of fairness, there is some way we could manage to live, but I don't think the odds are in our favor."

Arthur grunted in response, just in time to see both Eames and Nash return from their scouting.

"There's nothing. No entrances, no men, no traps. The windows are bullet-proof too," Nash reported.

Cobb sighed. "Alright, if that's how we're going to have to play this." He took out his pistol, promptly loading it. "Everyone stay close. I'm not sure what we'll find in there, but all I know for sure is that they'll be waiting."

Arthur nodded. "We need to go in hard and fast, no hesitation. It's the only way we'll even have a shot of surviving this."

"Do we have a shot at surviving this?" Nash eyed the forger warily.

"It'll take some focus, and probably a fair bit of luck, but if we show no mercy than we may have a shot." Eames supplied, his jaw set with determination.

Nash smirked. "Then let's go."

With a burst of speed, the team charged through the front door, guns blazing. Almost immediately the enemy began returning fire, and the men scattered in an effort to avoid it. Thankfully, the lobby to which the front door opened was more than suitable for this type of combat, various couches and plant arrangements providing for ample cover. And it was much appreciated.

As Cobb had suspected, the enemy had been more than prepared for their arrival, a good twenty or so armed projections having been stationed around the entrance. However, the team's rather direct approach had taken them at least slightly off guard, shifting the odds of the fight ever so slightly in their favor. Though, they still had a whole tower to climb.

Behind a large leather couch to the immediate left of the door, Arthur and Nash were under heavy fire, barely being able to let off more than a shot before having to duck into cover again. Being so close to the entrance, they had proved a much easier target than Cobb and Eames, who had managed to cover a bit more ground. To the right of the front door, the forger was hidden in a short hallway that lead to the bathrooms, and was providing the majority of the return fire at the enemies. Cobb was hidden behind a small water feature in the exact middle of the room, having barely enough space to stand without leaving any body part exposed.

"I could use a little help here!" Eames shouted at the others, aware that he was doing most of the work.

"We're pinned down over here!" Arthur shouted in response, blind firing once around the corner of the sofa before pulling his hand to safety.

"Well I'm not much better off," Cobb responded bitterly, peering out from behind the feature to fire off a few rounds. However, after a bullet ricocheted off the ground not more than a few inches from his right foot, he cursed and withdrew.

"Would this help?" Nash pulled a grenade out of his suit pocket, hiding it again before the projections could get a good look at it.

"How long have you had that?" Arthur demanded.

"I was saving it for when we really needed it. Besides, I don't have a clear throw."

Glancing to his left, Arthur sighed slightly, realizing what he had to do. "Then I suggest you get ready."

"Ready? What the hell do you mean ready?"

Arthur met the architect's eyes. "I'm giving you an opening."

Without warning, the point man suddenly pushed off from behind the couch, darting across the room as fast as his legs would carry him. The projections, drawn to the sudden and unexpected movement, instantly turned their fire towards him. In that same moment, however, Nash yanked the pin from the grenade, lobbing it over the couch and in the middle of the group in a single motion. Then, after a bone-rattling explosion, it was over.

For a moment, no one said anything, Cobb and Eames still struggling to register what had just happened. Arthur in the meantime had collapsed against a planter on the other end of the room, looking slightly out of breath, but relieved. Nash too looked relieved, standing up slowly from his position behind the couch.

This break didn't last long though, as Cobb promptly took over the situation. "Nice work," he looked approvingly at the architect, who accepted the praise with a mere nod.

"Now we just have fifty or so more floors to go," Eames commented, delicate sarcasm on his tone.

Arthur shot him a look.

"Wait," Nash interjected, halting the conversation. Instead of elaborating, however, he merely walked over to the front desk, which was surrounded by broken, bloodied bodies. Though, the destruction was not what he was referring to, more than a small white box sitting on the main counter. They hadn't noticed it before due to the commotion, but it appeared to be like a small clock, with blue, digital numbers counting progressively downwards.

"Is that…?"

"Our remaining time," Eames answered Arthur's half-finished question, approaching the machine slowly. "Looks like the architect really wanted to rub it in our faces if we came this far and didn't make it."

"But we still have 10 minutes," Cobb stepped forward, his tone encouraging, "and that's more than enough time to fight our way to the top."

"Lead the way then," the forger turned his back to the counter, waiting on Cobb's order. After a quick discussion, the team decided to climb to the top using the stairs, Nash and Cobb's experience in the first game making them hesitant to use the lift. Thus, the men found themselves trekking up countless flights of stairs, the high stakes and dwindling time motivating them to move faster.

They hadn't even gone up five floors when they began to meet resistance, Arthur recognizing the sound of footsteps from the flights above them.

"Here they come!" he announced, as his teammates prepared themselves for the firefight. By now very used to taking on patrol groups like this, the men wiped them out quickly, barely breaking pace in their ascent. However, this was not even the beginning of the battle to come, which stretched over the next devastatingly long minutes. Sometimes the projections would come down one at a time, their numbers apparently severed by various environmental factors. Other times they swarmed the team, and it took every ounce of skill they had to eliminate the enemies.

Being human, these exchanges did not occur without their fair share of injuries, even more so than their street battles. Weakened from the events of the previous 50 minutes, not one of the men walked away without a bad hit. Despite being the leader, Cobb sustained the least damaged, only grazed by a bullet on top of whatever injuries he had received during the forger's stunt with the car. Eames had also been grazed, though was now nursing a rather nasty bruise after being slammed with the butt of one of them projections' rifles. Nash hadn't actually received any blows, but after the toils of the game the wound on his arm was beginning to open up again.

Arthur was the only man to actually take a bullet, which had hit his thigh after he had wrestled with one of the enemies for a moment. Thankfully he was still able to climb, though only with the assistance of Eames.

"Quite to role reversal," Eames had commented between waves, his voice humorless despite the parallel.

"Yeah, only this time I have no intentions of blacking out on you." Arthur had winced, meeting the forger in the eye and managing an amused smile out of him.

Of course, both men inwardly knew that this was no time for petty jokes, especially with such little time left before the game ended. But somehow, this game did not weigh as heavily on them as the last two. The very first game had been a nightmare, the newly reformed team falling apart under the pressure applied by the man behind all this. The second game hadn't gone much better, the fragile alliance between the men shattering with a fraud placed among them. But after so much anger, disagreement, and fear, the team had united again.

Nothing in their circumstances had changed in the least bit, and normal people would have cracked under the pressure of facing the second-to-last game. But the team was unstoppable. After everything they had gone through, how many times they were at each other's throats and on the brink of losing it all, they were ready for anything. Regardless of the outcome of the game, they would face it without fear or hesitation. Little did they know it, they had become exactly what the man behind this feared.

And, when they cleared the top floor of the tower, with no more than 25 seconds left on the clock, they actually smiled.

**Oo0oO**

** A/N: Oh my gosh I had SOOO much fun writing this chapter, idk why. Probably because I finally got to write the team in a scenario where most of their tension is gone, and it's just about getting the job done. No more overly dramatic fights or anything, just a smooth ride to the end… kind of. The fourth game will shake things up a lot for our main character Arthur, almost more so than he can handle. And when the man behind Ariadne's kidnapping reveals himself, will all questions be answered? Or will they multiply? **

** As always feel free to review! And thanks to all my wonderful readers!**


	22. Unexpected Allies

Chapter 22: Unexpected Allies

Oo0oO

There was a brilliant flash of light, and just like that, the third game was over, a slight distortion in his perception letting Arthur know that he was returning to reality. After a moment his vision cleared, and the point man found himself staring up at a dusty, off-white colored ceiling. Blinking once, Arthur pulled himself into a sitting position, finding the rest of the team members doing the same. Unlike after the previous two games, the men seemed almost cheerful upon their waking, and a smile spread across Cobb's face upon rising.

"Good job men," he said warmly, his tone almost affectionate enough to be called proud. "Looks like we'll be moving on to the final game."

"By the skin of our teeth," Eames remarked, stretching a bit as he stood up. "We didn't exactly have a lot of time to spare."

"But we made it, that's all that matters." Arthur added interjected, looking between the men.

"Hm. I guess the final game is all that's left then." It was Nash who spoke, leaning casually against the hotel room wall.

Cobb nodded. "One more dreamscape."

"One more time trial." Eames added mockingly.

"But after that we're done. Just one more game and it's all over, for better or for worse." Cobb glanced around at the men. "I'd give some words of wisdom but I imagine you've heard it all before."

"Doesn't mean we won't humor you," Arthur smirked.

The extractor opened his mouth to make an additional comment when he stopped himself, noting a shadow that appeared behind the window curtains. Almost immediately afterwards there came the sound of a key turning, before the door was pushed open by the blonde woman from before.

However, before any words were exchanged, Arthur detected that there was something different about her. Each time the team had encountered the woman previously, she had maintained an unfailingly cold attitude towards them. Every word out of her mouth was a command, if not the occasional derogatory comment. In general, she made it seem as though she loathed even being in the same room as the team.

Therefore, the last thing Arthur was expecting was to see a small smirk spread across her face.

"Congratulations," she praised, not without the slightest bit of awe in her tone. "You've managed to win the third game."

Throughout the room, a small sigh of relief was uttered by each man, a small breath that none of them knew they were holding in.

"I honestly didn't think you would make it this far. Perhaps you really are as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" Nash spoke aloud, inadvertently interrupting Dom and earning a glare from the extractor.

"The people I work for," she responded cooly, surprisingly not tensing up about the subject. "I've heard a lot of impressive things about you all as individuals, but I never thought you'd be able to pull it off as a group."

"Um, thanks I guess . . ." Eames began, not sure how to complete the thought.

"Vira. My name is Vira."

"Thanks . . . Vira." The forger finished, though his voice sounded wary. For Eames, Arthur guessed, had just reached the same conclusion the point man had. The last time they saw the woman, she had been extremely on-edge around the team, which they had learned in the dreamscape to be due to a death threat from the man behind this all. So to see her talking so openly in front of the team felt both out of character and out of place.

Seeming to notice their distress, Vira's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, you're all concerned about the threats made because of Jarvis." She stated, locking eyes with each team member for confirmation. "Don't be. Jarvis was identified as a potential problem from the very beginning, and was therefore monitored heavily by both me and my associates. Though how the problem was resolved was . . . unfortunate, I am not under the same danger. Anything said between us is confidential."

Eames's eyebrows shot up. "Oh really?"

She gave a curt nod, watching his reaction carefully

"Alright then . . . Vira," he began, attempting to test out the extent of this privacy. "If that's true, then you should be able to guess the first question I want to ask you."

Though Arthur expected backlash from such a comment, Vira only looked amused. "You want to know who I'm working for?" She paused for a moment, looking around the room. Then, the woman sighed slightly. "I was anticipating this question. Though unfortunately I cannot give you the answers you're searching for. I've only seen his face once, more than a year ago, but since then I've only communicated with him through phone calls and his right-hand man."

"Describe him, anything would help," Cobb pushed, his voice suddenly insistent.

She nodded. "He's an older male, probably not old enough to be a grandfather, but his age shows in the gray in his hair and the wrinkles on his face. He dressed nice; I remember that, not so much so that he came across as excessively wealthy, simply well-off. And . . . that's about all I can recall."

"That's it? How do we know you're not withholding information?" Nash retorted.

Vira raised an eyebrow. "I'm answering your questions and going against the regulations set out for me through my own free will, why would I choose now to withhold information?"

Nash looked away guiltily.

"But on the same subject, that leads me to my own question, why are you helping us?" Cobb smoothly changed the topic, looking more relaxed than earlier despite them grim expression on his face.

"Another good question," she praised lightly. "After events with Jarvis, it has come to my attention that I have been fed lies about all of you as a group. I was convinced that you had committed great crimes in the past, and that this was a form of punishment. While you were in the dream I was able to do some digging and, well, let's just say not all of them were true." She cleared her throat. "I feel no malice towards any of you; though, I'm not exactly in a position where I can quit my job and start helping you. So this is the next best thing."

Putting a hand to his chin, Cobb nodded once, apparently satisfied.

"Any other questions?"

"Just one." Arthur began, his voice suddenly serious. At that moment, in the midst of 'who are you working for's and 'why are you helping us's, a different thought passed through the point man's mind. Then suddenly, it had caught in his throat, and burned his insides until he could stand it no longer.

"Go on." She prompted.

"How is she? Ariadne?" His voice cracked in the middle of her name.

This time, Vira's response was not immediate, for she took time to let the question sink in. She didn't appear surprised by his inquiry, just upset by it. "She's alive," she answered after some time, not meeting the point man's eyes. "I don't interact with her, so I can't tell you much. I know she's being properly fed and given a place to rest but . . . any pain she may be undergoing would not be of the physical sense."

Heart silently breaking in his chest, Arthur said nothing, drawing his eyes to the floor.

Vira, meanwhile, used the pause as an opportunity to remove an envelope from her coat pocket, which she promptly handed to Cobb. After giving a small nod to the team as a whole, she left without another word.

Still standing in the center of the room, Cobb glanced after her, then looked briefly at Arthur. "Are you-?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, standing up completely and moving towards Cobb. "Just open the letter."

Wordlessly, the extractor obliged, tearing open the white covering before throwing it on the ground. Unfolding the actual paper, he read it aloud:

"Congratulations! If you have received this letter, then you have successfully completed the third game. This means that no matter what happens during the next game, the victor will be decided. For such a momentous event, the final game will occur where this whole ordeal began, in Paris, France. Your presence is expected beneath the Eiffel Tower at noon in three days' time. As usual, failure to arrive on time will result in your loss. I look forward to seeing you there." With that, Cobb re-folded the paper, putting it inside his own pocket before lowering his hands.

"Back to where it all started . . . this man certainly has a thing for theatrics." Eames commented lightly, attempting to repair some of the normality between them.

"More like gloating." Arthur stated, his thoughts a million miles away.

"Arthur . . ." Cobb began again, trying to catch the point man's eye.

"Don't worry about me," he brushed off the extractor's concerns, Arthur's tone becoming gradually steadier the more he spoke. "Ariadne's alive and being cared for, that's all that matters. Now all that's left is to enter the final dreamscape and finish this damn thing. Once and for all."

Oo0oO

**A/N: Cheesy last lines are cheesy, but really the whole chapter is cheesy. But in any case I am back, after being prevented by various school projects from writing this chapter. Thankfully I managed to complete it, and provide content for all of my lovely readers (yes, that's you). **

**Feel free to review! Thanks to all the readers!**


	23. The Illusion Crumbles

Chapter 23: The Illusion Crumbles

Oo0oO

The team's trip to Paris was mostly uneventful, besides a few odd characters they ran into leaving the LAX airport. But once they got on the plane, the journey across the Atlantic felt almost . . . relaxing. Any previous tension between the men had seemed to disappear, left behind with the rest of their fears and doubts at the beginning of the third game. Of course, they all understood the significance of events to come, that this would be _the last _game before all of their fates were decided. But it didn't weigh nearly as heavily upon them all as before.

In fact, as their destination drew nearer and nearer, Arthur felt his thoughts begin to drift, until something unexpected crossed his mind. Since they were going to Paris, that meant they would likely be near Ariadne's school, where this whole mess had started in the first place. And, consequently, the team would have to talk to Miles.

During the course of the games, the team hadn't spoken much to the aging professor, besides a phone call Cobb had made to Miles at the beginning of these events, and another before the team flew to L.A. This second call, however, had been brief, and besides discussing the team using Miles and Sophia's summer home, no real information had been exchanged. It seemed the professor knew no more about Adriane's disappearance than the team, for the police (as well as his own resources) had found nothing that could lead back to the man behind it all.

Yet, given that the last game was taking place in Paris anyways, Arthur had reasoned it would be a good idea to check in with Miles person, to see if anything had come up. Additionally, after everything Miles had done for the team, the point man felt it was in the man's right to know exactly what had been going on in the games. Accompanying Arthur would be Cobb, who felt obliged given his close relationship with Miles and his family. However, since the trip to the university was wholly in the purpose of exchanging information, the forger and architect would not be present, choosing instead to study the police files on Ariadne's disappearance for any information that may have been overlooked. It was doubtful they would come across anything of significance, but as Eames had put it, "Business is one thing, but I'll leave the personal stuff to you to."

It was in this way that, a couple of hours later, Arthur and Cobb found themselves strolling casually through the university hallways, two shiny visitor's passes clipped neatly to the fronts of their shirts. They could have easily have strolled into the college without them, since both of the men were young enough to pass as students or even old enough to pass as professors, but for once they figured it was better to play things safe. Besides, Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the staff had beefed up security a bit in the fallout of Ariadne's kidnapping.

Before the incident, this school was among one of the most top ranked in all of France. Dropout rates were surprisingly low and the success rates of graduates were commendably high. The campus was clean and eco-friendly, the staff earned great admiration from students, and it was overall regarded as a magnificent school. However, the consequences of Ariadne's kidnapping had not been pretty. Even without having been in Paris to watch the events unfold, Arthur could tell an overall shift in the atmosphere of the campus. Perhaps it was all in his head, but the point man could swear there was a sort of tension in the eyes of the teachers they passed in the hallways, that the students smiled less and spoke in quieter voices. Like the whole school was on edge, fearful that another incident could occur at any given moment.

Pondering this, Arthur jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping and jerking his head to face Cobb in an alarmed sort of way.

"Arthur," Cobb said the point man's name slowly, keeping his hand on the point man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine." He responded, though his voice came out more strained than he had anticipated it to be. He cleared his throat.

Cobb gave him a disbelieving look.

"I'm fine." Arthur brushed away the extractor's hand, turning away before Cobb could react. "Let's keep moving."

Without looking at his companion, Arthur continued moving in the direction of Miles's classroom, knowing Cobb hadn't gotten the answer he was looking for but not wanting to start up a conversation about it. More than being unsure of whether or not he really _was _fine, Cobb was probably the last person he wanted to talk to about it.

After a moment's pause, he felt the extractor's presence come up behind him, as if the blonde-haired man had stood there for a moment before following after. Arthur couldn't imagine what had been going through his head in that moment, and, with luck, he may never have to.

Pushing away the thought, he and Cobb continued on in silence, walking through a few more passages before reaching the entrance to Miles's classroom. According to their watches, the man's last class of the day had gotten out 10 minutes ago, about the time Cobb and Arthur had first arrived at the university. Though Miles no longer had any compelling reason to hang around the school, Cobb knew that he liked to stay after class to straighten the room and talk to students before heading home for the day. If they were lucky, they would be able to catch him just before he left.

Despite reaching the door first, Arthur instinctively stood off to the side, waiting for Cobb to make the first move. Miles was the extractor's father-in-law, after all. Pausing a second to glance at the point man, Cobb reached for the handle, twisting it down before pulling the whole thing open. Inside was a simple college classroom, no different from when Arthur had last seen it. Same white walls, same disgustingly green chalkboard, and same aging professor behind the desk, grading papers in silence. At the sound of the opening door, Miles had glanced up, though he did a double take when he saw exactly who his visitors were.

"You're back!" he exclaimed, standing up rather abruptly and causing a few of the papers on his desk to flutter. However, before his excitement got the better of him, Arthur saw the man's eyes narrow, assessing the state of his colleagues before saying anything else.

After a brief moment of silence, he sighed. "I suppose you're not here to tell me the good me the good news." Miles said slowly, coming out from behind his desk a bit.

"Unfortunately no," Cobb replied, his voice measured. "But at the same time, we haven't yet lost."

Mild surprise registered on the old man's face. "Oh, really? Then do tell, what brings you two back to Paris at a time like this?" He continued, his tone accusatory.

"It's part of the game. As I'm sure you noticed the whole thing didn't take place in one convenient location, it was divided into four different sections. The first part took place in London, the second in Agra, then L.A., and lastly . . ." Cobb made a sweeping gesture with his hands.

"I see." Miles frowned, leaning back against his desk in a thoughtful sort of way. "So the game is not yet done. Or, more accurately, it is on the verge of conclusion." He nodded to himself. "I suppose it does make a bit more sense then why you started in England rather than anywhere else. That way you could nicely travel to places all around the world. Not that this sort of thing is usual in any way . . ." He drifted off, still appearing to be mulling over something in his head.

"Well, although I'm curious about the previous 'games' you have been through, I suppose it won't do much good to ask you about them now. Am I correct, however, in assuming that you didn't come here simply for the purpose of letting me know you hadn't lost?" Miles looked between Arthur and Cobb, neither of whom said a word.

"I thought so. Quite unfortunately, I have nothing new to share."

"Nothing? But it's been weeks." Arthur couldn't help but blurting out.

"True as that may be, no one has been able to dig up anything. The room was wiped clean; the other students report nothing; even the security cameras around campus show nothing. It's reasonable to assume the footage of what actually happened has been replaced by that of another night, yet there is little evidence to even suggest who made the switch."

Cobb exhaled. "So the only thing we can conclude…"

"Is that she was targeted. They probably had eyes on her at least a few weeks before the actual kidnapping. They knew her schedule, who her friends were, what her dorm mates were like, even what her _eating habits_ were like. Whoever 'they' are, they planned this whole thing far in advance." Miles locked eyes with the point man. "Everything that's happened to you so far? None of it has been an accident."

Arthur swallowed hard, not sure what to make of the last statement.

"However," Miles added, his tone becoming slightly lighter. "I do not think they intended in you making it this far."

The point man started. "Didn't you just say that they had this whole thing planned out?"

"I did. However, often when great strategists make Plan B's or C's, they hardly expect to have to use them. You said they split the so-called 'game' up into four sections, right? When they initially hinted at there being only one? They likely expected you to fail, maybe even from the beginning."

Now even Cobb was lost. "How do you know though? We were told pretty early that there would be more than one game, wouldn't they have expected us to get at least somewhat far"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the second game was their plan B." Miles inclined his head slightly to both of them, a sparkle in his eye despite the seriousness of the whole discussion. "Well, it's food for thought," he concluded, walking back behind his desk. Seemingly oblivious to the confusion on the faces of both men, Miles comfortably reseated himself once again in the chair. "I do hope the fourth game goes well for you. For all of our sakes"

Oo0oO

Five minutes later, Arthur and Cobb found themselves alone at the front entrance to the school, having just deposited their visitors' passes after their strange visit. However, before returning to their car, and afterwards their hotel room, Arthur had something to get off his mind.

"What the hell was that?" He opened, pointing in the direction of the classroom as if Miles was still right in front of them.

"I honestly don't know," Cobb had his hands in his pockets, surprisingly calm about the whole subject. "Though he tends to get like that sometimes."

"Oh, so you mean he often tends to drop hints that he knows more than he's letting on about major crimes, especially ones that he could have easily taken part in?" Arthur retorted.

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Then please tell what exactly it is that you do mean, because I'd like to know."

"I mean that he likes to act like that, like everything is a conspiracy or whatever. He looks too deep into simple things, gets so distracted by 'what if's' that he tends to confuse them with reality."

"That didn't sound like a 'what if' to me."

"_Arthur "_Cobb gave the point man a hard stare. "You know as well as I do he would do nothing to hurt Ariadne." He said harshly, breaking the unspoken rule the team had adopted of avoiding saying _her_ name. "Miles is just trying to find out what is going on, just like the rest of us. Without any hard facts he's just pondering what could be true."

"It sounded a bit more like certainty than aimless thinking." Arthur argued, unable to let the matter drop. _If that bastard laid a single finger on her…_

"You're wrong," Cobb shook his head, his voice sounding almost pitying. "I'm sorry if I can't make you see that. If you want some time to think about it that's fine, but don't come back to the hotel room spouting baseless accusations like that. The last thing we need is more tension this soon before the end."

Giving the point man one last meaningful look, Cobb walked off without another word.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, I have finals all next week and I had winterguard tryouts the week before that, so my schedule is a bit tight. (Okay, maybe more than a bit)**

**Only comment I have on this chapter is this, don't judge the text by what you read. I implied certain things a debunked certain things in this chapter, but try to think really logically about **what **Miles is saying and **why **Miles is saying it. Also of course, consider who might be interpreting what who said incorrectly. (That sounds bad, but next chapter it should start making sense) **

**Please review! Next chapter is the start of the final game!**


	24. The Unmasking

Chapter 24: The Unmasking

**A/N: Hellooo my dear followers. I have returned, thankfully, after months of editing and cleaning up earlier chapters of this work. Unfortunately the whole process took longer than expected, due to the fact that my computer crashed and I lost **everything. **But I've managed to recover, and now here we are. As a way of thanking you all for sticking out my hiatus with me, this chapter is super long, probably my longest to date. Hope you all like it!**

Oo0oO

Arthur did not immediately follow Cobb home that night. Instead, the architect felt an incredible need to be alone; to ponder all that had transpired somewhere he would not have to defend his thinking against the accusations of others. Not knowing (or liking) Paris well enough to have a particular destination in mind, Arthur simply walked.

He kept his pace calm, his head down. He did his best to just blend in, disappear into the crowds and let his mind disappear with him. Arthur tried to care about what so-and-so was wearing and who just broke up with whom, if only to clear his head for a moment. But of course, he couldn't. Jaw set and forehead wrinkled in frustration, he probably appeared more of a troubled scholar than an average Paris citizen.

It simply didn't add up in Arthur's mind. Why would Miles make those points? Why would he bring up such questionable topics just when tensions were already high? The old man _must_ have known where saying such things would lead Arthur and Cobb's thinking. So why say anything at all?

The most logical conclusion, Arthur realized, was that which the extractor had come to. It made sense to brush off what Miles had said as baseless theorizing. Technically he hadn't said anything compromising; all he had done was suggest that the people the team were up against were running out of tricks up their sleeve. It was entirely possible that that was simply how the situation looked, to someone on the outside.

But, for some reason Arthur couldn't fathom why the whole conversation disturbed him. Why, why, why? Why had everything been said? And why did it bother him? Was it just the stress that accompanied the team taking on the final game? Just the possibility of losing? Or did Arthur really feel, somewhere deep within his core, that Miles was against them?

It was infuriating process for Arthur, who spent the time pacing back and forth over and interminable amount of space, muttering nonsense to himself and trying to hold on to his thoughts. By this point it was scaring some of the residents he passed along the way as well, who began to think him a madman. And seeing a foreigner holding his head and cursing to himself, who wouldn't think him or her mad?

Despite the desperation and frustration that had initially driven Arthur into this debate, eventually he cooled down. He had not answered many of his prevailing questions, as he simply did not have the information or imagination to solve them. Instead, he reached peace in not knowing. After all, all would be revealed after the last game. After the final play was made, the last dreamscape entered, all cards would be shown. If Miles was guilty, it would be made known to all. If not, the true perpetrator would be revealed.

Either way, the point man concluded that all questions did not have to be answered then and there.

Gathering himself, Arthur walked himself into the nearest café and ordered the first thing on the menu, as well as the first alcoholic beverage he found there too. He enjoyed a nice meal, hailed a cab, and went back to the hotel. The room was empty when he got there, as he much would have preferred it.

Calmly, the point man changed out of his formal suit, wearing a light tank top and briefs. Not caring exactly how late it was, he climbed into bed, and within minutes was sound asleep.

Oo0oO

The next day Arthur arose early, feeling surprisingly well rested. As he did so, he became aware of the other men moving about the hotel room as well, going about their typical morning routines. The only one completely dressed, it was clear that Nash had been the first one up, though this wasn't at all unusual. Though they had only been working together a short time, it was clear that no matter how early one awoke, they would always be behind the architect. The man who, at this moment, was also taking his usual cup of coffee, sitting on the rooms' balcony and overlooking the city. Arthur would have called the scene poetic had the man sitting on the balcony been anyone other than Nash.

The point man himself was the third one to arise, though it was clear he was not too far behind Cobb, who had started up the shower not a minute after Arthur had awoken. And of course, Eames was last; despite his professionalism always maintaining the tendency of sleeping in the latest in the morning.

Admittedly happy to be back amongst such routines, Arthur slid casually out of bed, moving over to the kitchen area to make his own cup of coffee. Out of respect for the forger, he did his best to be quiet, pouring himself a glass with caution.

Focused on steadying his hand, Arthur was a bit surprised when he heard a grunt, and he looked up to find himself directly in Nash's gaze. Seeing he had gained the point man's attention, Nash waved him over, turning his view back towards the city before he could see Arthur's reaction. The point man, startled but not undeterred, shrugged to himself. After filling his cup completely, he joined the architect on the balcony, sliding hesitantly in the seat beside him.

"You called?"

Nash nodded once, still not looking at him. "Cobb asked that I talk to you."

In an instant, Arthur felt all of his supposedly resolved anger rush back to him. "Look I don't need-"

Nash held up a hand, turning to face the point man completely. "I'm not here to grill you about what happened."

"…I'm sorry, what?"

Nash shrugged. "I don't care. He told me of course, to say this and that to you and to try to explain things to you in a different sort of way, but that's a lot of bull crap. Cobb just doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know how to deal with you at times."

Arthur blinked, too stunned to speak.

The architect continued. "Honestly, I don't know how to deal with you a lot of the time either. Not before, and especially not with all of this Ariadne business. So I'm just going to be frank with you. It doesn't matter. You could easily be right about Miles somehow being involved, but you just as easily could be wrong. But at the same time, it could just as easily be up against Michael fucking Myers. The point is, we don't know."

"I understand." Arthur said back dryly. Of course, he had come to the exact same conclusion last night on his own. He didn't see the point of having it reiterated to him by Cobb through Nash.

"Good. Then you're not too in your own head to accept his apology."

"Apology? Wait, Cobb's? He's apologizing?"

Nash nodded. "He wanted to admit that he overreacted yesterday, that he got too defensive. He said he should have considered it from your point of view before spouting insults at you like that. Hence the reason he's not saying this to you in person now, he knew you wouldn't listen to him."

"…Wow." Arthur couldn't think of anything else to say. What could you say to something like that? After all, it wasn't everyday a man like Cobb apologized.

Nash meanwhile had turned back toward the city again, apparently having fulfilled his promise to Cobb. "Just don't get too mushy about it. You know how he is."

Arthur just nodded, not caring whether or not the architect caught the motion. He stayed on the balcony with Nash for a few minutes after that, saying nothing, yet not feeling at all uncomfortable in the silence. It was soothing, and it allowed him to ponder his own thoughts.

The two men sat beside each other until Cobb emerged from the shower, fully-dressed, and left to grab some of the complimentary breakfast downstairs. At that time, Arthur stood up slowly, moving across the hotel room and claiming the shower for himself.

Perhaps 20 seconds later, Eames sat himself up in bed. Not in a drowsy just-woke-up sort of way, but at a measured, fully-aware pace.

"That was rather considerate of you," he inserted, looking knowingly at Nash through the screen door.

The architect shrugged. "I didn't want to risk an actual fight breaking out. Besides, it's not like it hurt anyone."

Eames made a noise of agreement. "I'm amazed he bought the whole apology thing though. He knows Cobb would never."

"He's distracted." Nash affirmed. Then, after a pause "Why do you care so much anyways?"

Eames just smirked. "No reason."

The architect gave him a doubtful look, but decided to drop it, returning to his view. Truly, it was a beautiful Paris morning.

Oo0oO

A few hours later found the team fully-dressed, standing patiently beneath the powerful black beams of the famous Eiffel tower. Unsurprisingly, they found themselves amidst a flood of tourists, most of whom were snapping pictures of the tower from "exciting, unique angles". Though honestly, viewed from directly below, the Eiffel tower wasn't anything special. Just a crisscross of metal beams, which gave off a vaguely kaleidoscope-like feel.

Amazingly, the team had managed to arrive at their destination without any further tension arising between team members. Upon reuniting, Arthur and Cobb said nothing about what had transpired the night before, coming to a sort of unspoken agreement about it. Eames and Nash were also wise enough not to stir it up again; additionally careful to mention nothing to Cobb about what had been said that morning. So altogether balance had been restored, and the men found themselves waiting patiently for the arrival of Vira.

Had they been in a different mindset, they might have been concerned that, for the first time, _they_ were the ones to arrive before _her_. However, anticipation gripped the men too tightly for them to consider minor details. Indeed, it seemed this detail was inconsequential anyways, for not two minutes after their arrival the blonde woman in question approached them from the crowd.

This time however, she was not alone, accompanied by the same bulky, dark-skinned man they encountered back in London.

"Good of you to arrive on time," she said curtly, her cold, harsh personality returning in the presence of such company.

Wisely, the team said nothing.

Tossing her hair slightly, she moved past them "Follow me."

Obediently, the team did so, keeping close so as not to lose her in the throng of people. The man who had accompanied her, meanwhile, moved behind the team, not unlike he had the first time the team had been led to a game location. Though slightly unnerved by the return to such a formal escort, the men remained in silence as they made to their destination.

This destination, as it turned out, was an unused apartment complex located a few blocks away from the tower. Though it would under normal circumstances be strange for such prime real estate to go unused, it seemed the building was undergoing renovations, and all current residents had been temporarily relocated. Which of course, had made the complex a perfect spot for a game location.

Vira lead the way slowly up to the surrounding fence, which was deep ebony in color and intricately designed. Pulling a lone key from her pocket, she slid it into the lock, which clicked softly before giving way. She then smoothly moved the postern off to the side, pushing ahead onto a small concrete path that lead to the main building itself. There, she had to unlock yet another door, though this time using a key card, as part of the renovations dealed with replacing the old lock system of the complex with modern appliances.

From there, the woman then led the group through a short cluster of hallways and staircases, having no difficulty navigating where Arthur and the rest of the team felt lost. Eventually they arrived at their designated room, which Vira promptly unlocked before holding the door open for the team.

"Make yourselves comfortable," she said, a small smirk sliding onto her face now that she was out of view of the other escort.

Obediently, the team moved in, finding themselves in a plainly furnished, all white room. It was dark inside, and the stuffiness gave off the impression that, even before the current apartment residents had been relocated, the room had been vacant. Further reaffirming such a statement was the presence of plastic tarp over the carpet floor of the area, perhaps there due to the renovation. However, incongruous with the rest of the room were five plain hospital beds, which had been dragged into the very center of the room along with a small coffee table. On the table, the PASIV sat open, IV chords running from its center to each bed.

"Hm." Eames offered, observing the room strangely.

"What?" The second escort was the one who spoke, sounding suspicious.

"Kind of lacking in fanfare, don't you think?" he responded slowly, poking the plastic tarp suspiciously with his foot. "I mean, this is supposed to be _the last game_, where's the party streamers and balloons?"

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. However, before he could comment, Vira cut in. "I think you'll find the dreamscape more than makes up for the…lack of decorum."

"I should hope so." Nash added slyly, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

Sensing that things weren't going in the direction they needed to, Cobb quickly interrupted the episode. "Gentlemen, I believe it's time we kick this thing off."

"Right," The point man affirmed quickly, aware of a slight waver that had suddenly appeared in his voice. He swallowed purposefully in an attempt to mask it.

However, the rest of the team took no notice, and in an instant each man had claimed a bed, settling in and grabbing their respective IVs. Once everyone had hooked themselves up to the machine, they paused, waiting for their customary pre-game pep talk.

If it could even be called that.

Regardless, Vira cleared her throat slightly, her tone changing in that way people's do when they're about to recite something.

"Now that you are all ready, the final game will begin. However, because this is the last game you will be playing, things will proceed in a different manner from the previous games. As usual I will not be telling you anything about the game before you enter the dreamscape. But how things proceed after the game is a completely different story."

Here she paused for a moment, indicating that the team should pay close attention.

"Should you succeed, we will keep our end of the bargain. Your weapons and other supplies will be returned to you, and you will be reunited with your companion. Additionally, our boss will reveal himself to you and promptly turn himself into the authorities, providing full evidence as to his crimes."

Though Arthur flinched slightly at this explanation of the 'victory' he said nothing, doing his best to listen intently.

Vira, meanwhile, plunged on without hesitation. "If however, you are to lose the final game, the cards are in our hands. In such case, you will have to work for our boss as contractees until it is determined your work is complete."

"And what sort of work would that be?" Cobb questioned, his tone cautious.

"If you are to lose, you will find out." It was the other man who spoke, his jaw set in a way that made him look like a wild dog about to attack. Seeming to sense this, Vira shot him a look that implied he had over-stepped his bounds.

While this interaction occurred, however, Arthur stumbled across his own last minute question. "And, what would happen to Ariadne then?"

Though she did her best to mask it, Vira's eyes suddenly went cold at the question, her expression becoming carefully blank. Arthur didn't want to acknowledge it, but he knew it was the sort of look that only occurred when someone was masking the presence of an extremely intense emotion.

"In the event that the last game is lost, she will be considered no longer relevant to our boss's cause. In that case, she will be disposed of without hesitation."

While the team had been fully prepared for such an answer, silence feel heavily in the room after the statement. Anticipation and excitement alike were abated, as each team member was forced to come to terms with a truth they were hoping they wouldn't have to face.

More so than before beginning any other game, Arthur was struck with the horrible reality of the situation. If he did not succeed, she would die. If the team couldn't keep it together for just one more game, he would lose the person that meant the most to him in the entire world. Her blood would be on his hands, all because he couldn't win a stupid little game. Both internally and externally, the point man shuddered.

Taking the silence as a sign that the discussion had ended, the dark-skinned man stepped around her, moving over to the PASIV on the center table. After doing a quick check to make sure everyone was properly attached, he activated the strange machine. Almost before he was truly aware of what was happening, Arthur was out cold.

Oo0oO

When Arthur came to again, he found himself surrounded by gray. Not the gray skyscrapers of a city or any other definable location, but simply gray. Thoroughly confused, it took him only a second of complete consciousness to realize that he was simply in a windowless gray room, and not actually – as he had for a split second believed – dead.

Now that he was fully aware, the point man was able to recognize why he was so confused. Save for himself, the room was completely bare, lacking even differentiation between the material that made up the ceiling, walls, and floor. In fact, Arthur almost came to the conclusion that the room was wholly empty when he noticed a door handle sticking out of the wall directly in front of him, seemingly existing without a door to open.

_Another closed room game then_, Arthur thought to himself, sighing internally as he grasped the situation. Though it would technically follow the pattern set up until this point, he had sort of been hoping for another city-wide race against time. It may have seemed ridiculous, but in the past the team had fared much better in those situations as compared to these more conceptual games. But given that he was in no condition to complain, Arthur went along with it.

Reaching out, the point man clasped the door handle, turning it completely counterclockwise with only slight difficulty. As he did so, the outline of a door appeared on the previously blank wall, before a section of it pulled away and he found himself standing before an opening. No longer fazed by such strange game beginnings, Arthur moved inside without hesitation, finding himself now in a much wider, pure white room.

He barely had time to adjust to his new surroundings when his eyes fell on a lone table in the very center of the room. On the table was an unlabeled black box, the contents of which he was not currently concerned with. Arthur instead found himself a bit more distracted by the two lone chairs on opposite ends of the table. More specifically, he found himself distracted by the person sitting in one of the chairs, facing directly towards the point man with a sly grin on his face. When they met eyes, the grin widened.

"Hello Arthur." The man said amiably, in a voice the point man was all too familiar with. "Interested in playing a game?"

Oo0oO

**A/N: Can anyone say cliffhanger? Tee hee. While you wait for the next chapter, feel free to review! Every comment keeps me going, and I love you all so much!**

**XOXOXO**

**-Dez, who is finally back from the dead**


	25. The Last Game

Chapter 25: The Last Game

Oo0oO

There were many different things Arthur had expected upon entering the final game. After all, as the team's point man it was his job to be prepared for anything. In this case, situational analysis should have led him to at least semi-accurate predictions of what was ahead. And they did.

Following the pattern set throughout earlier games, Arthur knew without a doubt that the last game was going to be in some way grandiose and bold. After all, the man behind this had shown quite the tendency to brag at every opportunity he got. But the point man had expected this to appear in the form of an insanely elaborately dreamscape, with odds even more improbable than found in all of the previous games combined.

What he certainly had not been expecting was a meeting with the game-maker himself.

"Hello Arthur." The man had opened amiably, in a voice the point man was all too familiar with. "Interested in playing a game?"

Though at first fronted by the man's presence, Arthur knew without a doubt that the man before him was indeed the orchestrator of the games. Even before a single syllable had been uttered, with the same condescending tone that had mocked the team from various sources in the past, Arthur knew this was _the _man. Ariadne's kidnapper, the mastermind, the _man_ behind the operation. He even looked the part.

He was dressed in a fine, Italian cut suit of all gray, thrown over a white button-up shirt. A black tie was just visible between the lapels. He had a bulky body shape which reflected on a somewhat rounded face, which was whiskered with a fine blackish/gray stubble. The man's eyes were clear blue, tinged with the slightest hint of yellow.

However, even after a thorough examination of the man, Arthur came to a surprising and abrupt realization. He did not recognize him. Though the man had claimed at the start of all this to be a figure from Arthur's past, the point man had no recollection of meeting him. Surely, he would have remembered such a figure, especially one who had prior knowledge about the dreamscape. But why then, was he drawing a blank?

Figuring all questions would be answered momentarily, Arthur refocused his attention on the man. "It appears I'm already playing one." He said smoothly, approaching the table and putting one hand on the back of the metal chair.

The man's eyes narrowed, though the smile never left his face. "There's that famous wit of yours. But there's no need to hide behind it, we're all friends here."

Arthur tried not to let his disgust show on his face. "Oh, we're friends now? I didn't know this is how old friends were supposed to greet each other." He gestured to the room around them.

"Then it appears you've been doing friendships all wrong. Have a seat."

Slowly, Arthur moved into the metal chair, careful not to get too comfortable. During the process, the man's eyes never strayed from Arthur's.

"I can tell by your reaction that you don't remember me," the man stated, sounding slightly disappointed. "Though I suppose that may have been too much to ask. The name's Nathanial." He stuck his hand out across the table. Arthur just stared at it.

"Ah, straight to the point as usual then" he said, withdrawing his hand disappointingly.

"I didn't come here for small talk." Arthur snapped, any anxiety he had quickly being replaced by annoyance. "I came for Ariadne."

The man paused a moment, his eyes running up and down the point man as if sizing him up. Then he sighed. "Oh fine, if its business you want to discuss, then we shall." He yawned a bit, as if the subject bored him. "Since you like directness, I'll start by easing your suspicions. Yes, it was me who was responsible for kidnapping your little girlee."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and in an instant he felt his walls come up. "Why?"

"To draw you and your team out. I knew you cared for her, so all it took was a bit of… planning."

"But why us, what makes our team so special?"

Nathanial shook his head. "No it's not what makes your team special. Actually, it's not about your team at all. It's about you, Arthur." The man stood up purposefully. "You see, the whole threat with your team having to do me a favor if you lost was… a lie. One I made up so you would believe the exact delusion you were hanging onto when entering this game. That this was about all of you, and your skills as a team." He chuckled a little bit. "No, from the beginning you were the goal. That's why I kidnapped _Ariadne_, after all, to get _your_ attention."

"My attention for what?" Arthur jumped up from his chair, meeting Nathanial at eye level. "So I could come and play your stupid little game? Is that what you wanted?"

"The game was part of it, admittedly. Though, the real purpose of the games was to give you hope." Here Nathanial plopped back down on the chair, smiling.

"What?"

"Yes, if I had simply killed her you'd just be vengeful. You'd spend your every waking moment trying to find me, hunting me down, and killing everyone I ever loved. Pulling the whole 'outside the law hero' thing. But by giving you a chance to rescue her, I could build up your hope, your hope of being her knight in shining armor and returning everything to the way it was before. I could give you a hope for a future with her, one where you protect her and keep her safe from the world you've dragged her into. Then, I could crush it, as I killed her before your very eyes." Nathanial's smile deepened. "She would have died in your arms."

"_Bastard_" Arthur spat, focusing every fiber of his being on not strangling the man right then and there. He knew it would be hopeless anyways, given it was Nathanial's dream they were in.

The man chuckled a bit. "Hm, have I hit a nerve there Arthur? Well then, now that you're a bit more fired up perhaps we can get into the final game."

"You're…playing?" The point man stumbled, using his confusion as a mean of soothing his anger.

"Indeed. After all, how could I miss out on the finale of my own little show?" He grinned wickedly. "Though, in case you hadn't guessed by this point, I will be the _only_ other player in this game."

Hazy with anger though he was, Arthur was able to detect the man's point immediately. Further stressing his theme of "the whole game was about Arthur from the beginning" the final game would be played by just Arthur. Why, the point man had no clue.

He couldn't fathom why a man would go through this much trouble to break him, and him alone. Despite any injustice he may have cause Nathaniel; _this_ didn't seem an appropriate retaliation. It was too grandiose, a worldwide travel game designed for him. Even with the vague explanation provided, it still made no sense.

"_I suppose these are questions I'll have to save for later" _Arthur mentally sighed, gathering his focus. After all, he had a game to play.

"Alright, what are we playing?"

"Something a little more…traditional then the last few games you've experienced. It's a bit old fashioned, but I'm sure you're familiar." Moving to the lone black box on the table, Nathanial lifted the lid, slowly and deliberately. Even before it was all the way off Arthur knew.

"Chess."

"A gentleman's game. One that pit's wit against wit in perhaps one of the more advanced forms of mental warfare to date." Nathanial rambled, pulling out the board and spreading it flat on the table as he did so. Then he reached back into the box, pulling out the white king. "Because you're the guest, you get first move."

Arthur hesitated a moment, wary at the strange nobility of the man. Then he took the king, placing it down before gathering the rest of his pieces. Wordlessly, he set up his side, moving from the front to the back, placing his queen down last. When he finished, he found Nathanial looking patiently back at him. "Take it away."

Slowly, Arthur felt his hand drift over to the set of pieces before him. Move possibilities flashed before his eyes, as the point man tried to draw back on his previous experience in chess to determine the best course of action. However, his last game had been years ago, and his previous familiarity was lost to him.

Moving his hand cautiously, Arthur selected a pawn, moving it forward two spaces.

Just as Arthur released his grip on the piece, Nathaniel's hand darted out, moving one of his pawns one space forwards in an obviously pre-planned maneuver. Though this alone would not have been enough to throw him off, the confidence with which he maneuvered his piece was a bit unsettling.

"Speedy responses won't get you anywhere," Arthur remarked dryly, hiding his own anxiety behind derision.

Nathaniel half-shrugged. "Sorry. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit…_excited_." He tittered, following Arthur's hand movement as he moved yet another pawn forward. Again, Nathaniel's response was almost immediate, though this time he chose to send forward one of his knights.

"_He's too confident," _Arthur thought to himself, frowning deeply. Normally excessive confidence was a pleasing thing to see in opponents, especially because it could often lead to arrogance, and then carelessness. However, the point man new from past encounters that this man was far from careless. "_If I'm going to have a fighting chance, I need to throw him off of his game._"

With as much casualness as he could muster, he pushed yet another one of his pawns forward. "So you meant to break me." Arthur began, starting from where their previous banter left off.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk about business again, mid-game?"

The point man said nothing, only shooting the man a look.

"Fine." With a sudden crashing noise, he brought down his knight (which Arthur had not even seen him pick up), onto one of Arthur's pawns, collecting the piece and tossing it back into the box. "I suppose we all have our own preferred styles of play. In any case, I told you, we met before somewhere long ago. Back when you were still new to the dreamscape."

"During the military training?" Arthur winced. Even compared to all of the shit he had been through since then, his first PASIV training runs had been brutal.

Thankfully, Nathaniel shook his head. "A bit after that, can't recall the year exactly, nor do I want to. But we were on rival extraction teams, both under the same instruction: get in, retrieve the security files, and get out. Pretty standard operation. However, the catch was, only one team was meant to make it out alive."

Arthur nodded slightly, having a vague memory of such a mission. Though it was all so long ago, it was hard to recall any of the details.

"We were deep enough that a death inside meant death in reality too. It made it easier for the employers."

"Lyell?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Why try picking between two teams with similar reputations, when you could just let them work it out in a dreamscape." He scoffed slightly. "At first it seemed like my team was going to win. From the start it seemed we had all of the advantages. Better extractor, better forger. Then… all of my team was wiped out. We may have had more experience with the dreamscape, but your team had killers."

"But you're still here." The point man finished, seeing at least in part where the story was going. Then, suddenly realizing the grinding halt their game had come to, he moved forward a bishop, actually taking one of Nathaniel's pawns.

As Arthur had predicted, Nathaniel paid little mind, still wrapped up in his story. "I alone survived, by running and hiding. I waited for your team to get out, and hid on the outer dream layer until they booted me out."

Suddenly, Nathaniel slammed his fist down on the table, leaving the chess pieces rattling. "They mocked me when I got out. Called me a 'weak pussy that shouldn't have been let through training'." He tightened his jaw. "Then they tortured me."

For a second there was silence, as Nathaniel sat with his tight jaw, clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles went white. Then, quite suddenly, he refocused. The wildness Arthur had seen in before in the man's eyes was gone, replaced with the condescending, confident ones of the gamemaker.

"Your team was all killers. But we could have won just by avoiding you all. We _would have_. But they had an expert tracker. And we were overwhelmed." Slowly, Nathaniel lifted his pointer finger, pushing his knight into yet another capture. "You're move, point man."

Oo0oO

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. For some reason I've only been able to pump out like 300 words a sitting, and given that my chapters are always at least 2,000 words long… it took a while. But here it is! Thanks for all of the reviews, your kind words are honestly what keep me going through all of the mental blocks. Next chapter will be the game's conclusion! **


	26. The Victor

Chapter 26: The Victor

Oo0oO

Arthur swallowed hard. He found himself glancing nervously between the man and the board, not sure which should concern him more. The man, who stared back at Arthur with steely confidence and dead eyes, or the board, which predicted at the moment a rather grim outcome to this deathly game. Both felt a bit overwhelming at the present time, so the point man resolved to look at neither, averting his eyes to the ground instead.

He remembered the scenario that Nathaniel described, if only vaguely at first. It was an early contract job; back when Arthur had picked the first team he could find who didn't reject him or try to kill him outright. He had known they were monsters. Just the way they talked about past jobs was enough to tell him that. But they had respected Arthur enough to work with him, and that was enough for the young point man.

The job too had seemed suitable enough. No apparent strings attached, just a simple in and out deal. After all, neither team had been told that it was a contest.

The moment Arthur had worked out what was really going on inside the dreamscape; he had known they were going to lose. In fact, by the time his team first encountered the other extraction team; they were already on their way out, information in tow.

So the point man did what he always did. What he was hired to do.

He divided his team, the forger and architect staying behind to distract their opponents on the 3rd level, while he and the extractor went back to the previous. Finding the team's unconscious bodies had been easy enough, as had pulling the trigger on the only one who hadn't been shot by Arthur's team a level down. However, the last team member, the one who should have been watching the bodies, was never found.

It was the architect. A man who's face Arthur never saw. And, after making it out of the dreamscape, never thought he'd see.

Until today that is.

Unsteadily, Arthur tried to return his attention to the game at hand. Almost subconsciously, he found himself moving a piece. He was too shaken to contemplate whether the move was good or not.

"I suggest you make an effort to stay focused," Nathaniel spoke calmly, obviously noting Arthur's distress. Casually, he moved forward another one of his pieces. Arthur felt a surge of relief to see that the man did not claim another white piece in the process.

"I'm…I'm sorry." The point man felt himself saying, his throat dry.

Nathaniel shook his head, not looking at him. "It's a little late for that."

Arthur ignored him. "But surely there's something else I can do. Anything please, just take her out of the picture."

"Since when do I start doing favors for you?" Nathaniel scoffed, the softness present in his voice not a moment before suddenly vanishing. "All the shit I went through, and you have the nerve to plead me for another way? No, there's no turning back now."

Silence fell heavy upon the room following the man's statement, as Nathaniel paused to allow his words to sink in. Arthur again avoided looking at the man, staring sightlessly at the game board instead. He allowed his mind to become intent on the small ridges left by the pieces, arranged in their senseless little pattern. He knew how they all moved, but he had no clue what he was doing.

He was going to lose. Ariadne was going to die.

And all because of the missing architect from so many years ago.

Suddenly Arthur felt empty. It was like a hole was opening in his chest, growing slowly to consume him from inside out. His racing mind was stilling, his fear and anger and determination all gone. He was done. He didn't think about fighting to save Ari anymore. In his mind, she was already lost.

He couldn't think about how far he'd come, how he and the team had fought their way through 3 different games, and flew around the entire world just to get to this point. He was consumed with fear, and regret. So much regret.

A small fraction of it was for Nathaniel. And the first game which had determined this entire series of events. But most of it was for Ari. And everything he could have done to save her.

All of the doubts that had been plaguing these past 2 weeks came flooding back to him. And he wasn't sure he could fight them back again. Not with defeat right in front of him.

Oo0oO

No.

No.

NO.

He wouldn't.

He'd come too far. Way too far to be defeated by _doubt_. Especially at the last possible moment. He'd fought the fear of failure for too long to turn tail at the possibility of it. How many times had he and the team almost broken down before? How many times had they manipulated into turning on each other, had the tension practically eaten them alive?

But more importantly, how many times had they overcome it? Every time. Without fail.

Arthur was no fool. He knew that there was still a very high probability that he was going to lose. That he was going to have to face Ari one last time, just to watch her die in front of him. Just like Nathaniel had planned right from the very beginning. But he wasn't going to give up early because of fear. Because if there was one thing he knew about games, about every game ever played, it was that the victor is not determined from the very start. There is no guarantee of win or loss, no matter the players. In the span of a game, no matter if it lasts weeks, days, hours, or minutes, anything could happen.

Even miracles.

Oo0oO

Arthur smirked, blinking once. Then he raised his eyes to meet Nathaniel's, who was understandably surprised to see the point man's shift in mood.

"Sorry, you're right." The point man apologized, shifting in his chair to sit up straight.

"I'm right?" Nathaniel echoed, clearly lost, and caught off-guard by Arthur's sudden shift in mood.

"There's no turning back. For either of us."

"But what reason would I have for turning back?" Nathaniel pressed, suddenly agitated, and not entirely without fear. "The past holds nothing for me."

"Exactly." Arthur's smirk deepened. "It's all we can do as humans to keep moving forward. Even when the world turns against us. It's one of our greatest traits, our resilience. Our drive to just keep… moving." Arthur slid a piece forward.

Nathaniel, staggered by the movement, struggled to gather his wits. Prematurely, fearfully, he moved a piece forward.

Boom. Arthur toppled it with a quick, sure movement.

He moved again.

Boom, yet again a black piece fell.

Soon the board was a rapid flurry of moves and captures. Arthur moving with cool concentration, Nathanial struggling to match with feigned confidence and risky plays. White and black pieces alike clattered off the board, first a pawn, then a rook, then a bishop, then 2 more pawns, then a _queen_. Arthur was at the same time acutely aware of every move, and unaware of it all. It was a strange feeling, to live so fully on the edge of failure and victory like this. He couldn't say he enjoyed it, but he mastered it.

"Check," Nathanial piped up suddenly, not without a bit of uncertainty. Mildly surprised, Arthur surveyed the board. He'd been so offensive in his movements that he'd almost forgotten to defend his own king at all. The point man felt almost embarrassed upon realizing such, but more thankful realizing that he still had an out.

Obediently, he moved his king out of the check. Nathaniel's retaliation came almost immediately. "Check, again."

Arthur frowned, drawing his attention closely to the corner of the board containing his king. Though he still had an out to the check, he had a bad feeling about the whole scenario. Again, he moved his king to safety.

Again, Nathaniel's retaliation was immediate; though this time he could not immediately gain a check. A quick analysis of the board, however, showed that his next move would end in another check- no. Arthur scanned the board again. No, a checkmate.

Nathanial seemed to have realized this too, because a small grin began sliding its way back onto his face, and he glanced over at Arthur belittlingly. "Is there a problem, Arthur?"

_Go to hell._ Arthur mentally snapped, trying to refocus his attention on the matter at hand. It was clear that the game would be decided depending on how well Arthur played his next move. He could always move his king in anticipation for the checkmate, though Arthur was sure that would only delay the outcome, not change it. He could use his last remaining rook to shield the king from the attack. Yet that would just lose him a rook, and then his king at a later date.

No, Arthur reasoned, running wouldn't help him here. He needed a move.

Just one move. A game changing move.

And then he found it. An opening, so small and so incredibly lucky that it literally floored the point man. It was so unlikely, so easily missable. In his early state of mind, Arthur was sure he would have glanced right over it. Yet now, when he needed it, he didn't.

And it was all thanks to a well-placed pawn, and a bishop Nathaniel had forgot to capture. Slowly, hardly believing the move himself, Arthur slid the piece into place.

"Checkmate."

"Impossible." Nathanial didn't hesitate in his reply, though it took him a full two seconds to tear his eyes away from Arthur's king (and his intended victory) to look at his own king. When he did, his eyes immediately widened. Yet Arthur saw him check it over. Then check it over again. Then check the validity of Arthur's last move. Then check the entire playthrough of the game.

This was done frantically on the Nathanial's part, and the point man could clearly see the denial and anger in his eyes.

"I've-

"NO!" Nathanial shouted, his eyes wide. "You couldn't have, it's not possible it's not… You couldn't."

"It's over Nathanial." Arthur said with a note of finality, standing up.

"But- but I _had_ you. The whole game, I _had _you. You had no chance- there was no chance-

Suddenly, Arthur found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Shit-" the point man took a quick step back, not nearly enough to be out of range, but just enough for him to focus on the fact that it was indeed a gun that he was staring at.

"There was no way you could have one. I _made _this game, the whole thing, unwinnable. Nobody- no team could be that perfect." Nathanial was visibly shaking, his voice unsteady and his pupils huge.

"Nathanial you promised. Remember what you said? You said if I won, you'd set her free, you'd turn yourself in!" Arthur found himself shouting, trying to get through to the man, and almost trying to reassure himself of the promise.

The man didn't seem to hear him. "It was unwinnable! She _told _me it was unwinnable!"

"She-?"

"You _couldn't_! You _didn't_!"

And then everything went black.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Oh god I'm so excited I'm gonna throw up. I'll probably be writing the next chapter immediately after you see this one posted, so expect the next update to be really soon.**

**Thanks for the support! The end is nigh!**


	27. The Architect

Chapter 27: The Architect

Oo0oO

**A/N: Short chapter, but the next will be up soon! Can't stop now!**

Oo0oO

Arthur's eyes snapped open. In a rush, he sat up, his vision blurring as he did so. Instinctively he knew it was the effects of the sedatives, which told him one thing at least; he wasn't still in the dreamscape.

"Easy," he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, steadying him. This the point man was grateful for, for the moment moved a wave of queasiness had overcome him, arriving like a swift punch to the gut.

"We didn't have time to let the drugs wear off naturally, so any discomfort you're feeling can't be helped." The voice sounded apologetic.

_Gee thanks_, Arthur mentally retorted, though aloud he simply groaned. He felt like he had just been hit over the head with a bat.

"Here," the voice handed him something. It took Arthur almost 10 seconds to realize it was a bottle of water. Almost immediately after this realization the point man started chugging it, not caring that he spilled quite a bit of it down his suit jacket. After downing half a bottle, he began to feel a bit better.

"Thanks," Arthur managed, breathless. His vision was beginning to clear a bit, and he gathered his wits enough to wipe the excess water off of his face. "Where am I? And what the hell happened?" After a moment's pause, Arthur realized he wasn't even sure who he was talking to. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm Sam," the man introduced himself, seeming not at all dazed by the sudden flood of questions. He was tall and lanky, with bright green eyes and hair the color of mouse fur. He looked like a Sam. "And we had a bit of an emergency situation."

"Emergency?" Arthur echoed, finally gaining control of his breathing enough to speak at a normal volume.

"Yeah," the man, Sam, took a step back, giving Arthur space now that he seemed to be stable. "You remember the dreamscape?"

"Yeah…" the point man said slowly, reflecting back on the abrupt end of their game, the gun, and then the blackness. "But, if I'm here that means…"

"Yeah," Sam resounded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "We had to perform an emergency withdrawal. Pull you both out of the dreamscape before he could pull the trigger. Barely made it too."

"You didn't _want_ him to shoot me?"

The man gave Arthur a quizzical look. "No of course not, the deal was that he turned himself in if you won. When he pulled the gun we had to abort the dream before he ended up getting you trapped in there."

"You wanted to _help me_?" Now Arthur was really confused.

Before Sam could say anything else, however, the door to their room flew open. A short, frazzled-looking blonde woman stood behind it.

"Vira," Sam stated, looking surprised.

"I'll take over here," she ordered curtly. "Sam I need you to go to the other room and deal with the rest of them."

The man didn't move. "Are you sure? I mean, what about Nathanial?"

"I took care of him. For now, let's just focus on cleaning up this damn mess."

Nodding slightly, though hesitantly, Sam exited the room. He was barely out of the frame when Vira slammed the door shut, practically on his tailbone. The moment it was closed, she leaned against it, closing her eyes and sighing heavily.

Arthur stood up. "What the hell is going on?"

The woman blinked a moment, clearly still recovering from whatever had just happened. Then, a small smile spread across her lips. It was a tired smile, but genuine nonetheless. "You won."

"Okay but what's going on? And what happened with Nathanial? He pulled a gun on me and the next thing I know…" Arthur gestured around the room.

Sighing again, Vira sat down on a nearby bed. "I need a drink." She shot Arthur a look, glancing between him and his own bed. Reading her meaning, he took a seat as well.

"We expected that Nathanial might react like this." She said slowly, her hand on her forehead. "We hoped he wasn't going to but… well, you were there. So, just to play it safe, I organized someone to monitor the game. Have a third person on the inside to step in in case something went wrong." She jerked her thumb towards the door. "That was Sam. It's his subconscious that you've been exploring these past few weeks, by the way. Sam Green."

"Anyway, Sam realized something was wrong the moment you made the final move. He's surprisingly good at reading emotions like that. As soon as Nathanial snapped Sam pulled the plug."

"He can do that, mid-dream?" Arthur blurted, too distracted by this detail to realize he was interrupting.

Vira smirked slightly. "I suppose you're not used to his type, dealing mostly with extractions. But he's a lucid dreamer. Always had complete control of his dreams, even the sedative-induced ones. Incredible control of the dreamscape, that one. Point is however, he got you all out of their ASAP. That's why you woke up feeling so disoriented as you did."

"Okay, but what about Nathanial? He's your boss, if he wanted to let me get trapped in limbo, why didn't you let him?"

Vira frowned. "Nathanial may be our superior, but I follow orders, not the people who give them. At the beginning of this game, we were given instructions. We were told that if you lost, the girl would be killed and then you would all be released. But if you won, Nathanial had agreed to willingly turn himself in, and return her to you." Her eyes narrowed. "That was the deal, not some bullshit turnaround at the last moment."

Seemingly realizing the severity of her own words, Vira cleared her throat. "So when Nathanial came out of the dreamscape I subdued him. And now I'm dealing with the aftermath of it all."

"You rose up against him? Just so you could uphold some empty promise he gave weeks ago?" Arthur was dumbfounded.

Vira just shrugged. "I stick by my gut. Thankfully the rest of the crew doesn't seem to have a problem with it. After all, as long as they get paid they're happy."

Abruptly, she stood up. "But none of this should concern you. The ultimate point is, you won."

Arthur stood up as well, his throat tightening slightly. "Does that mean-?"

She nodded.

Oo0oO

Ariadne noticed the change in the atmosphere almost immediately. She wasn't sure how she knew, but somehow she felt it deep within her.

Blindly, she stumbled towards the door, even before the latch was undone. She was crying even before she saw him, before she felt him embrace her. She was shaking so badly, she didn't know how he could stand to hold her. But his grip was firm and protective, and it felt so good Ariadne thought she might faint.

She was sobbing, harder than she'd ever before in her entire life. But for the first time in weeks, it wasn't out of fear. It was relief.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice strained. She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but she was pretty sure he was crying too. "I'm so so sorry."

She opened her mouth to say something. There was so much to say. So much she wanted to say. But she couldn't. Instead she just kept crying, and he just kept holding her.

And together they sat like that on the floor, the room soundless except for the irregular pattern of sobbing. There was so much to say. But at the moment, the silence was enough.

Oo0oO


	28. Aftermath

Chapter 28: Aftermath

Oo0oO

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. After the game's rather abrupt ending and the reunion of the team, most of what was left to do was just picking up the pieces.

The first matter of business had been Nathanial. The original plan upon Arthur's victory was for the man to turn himself into the police, and assume full responsibility for Ariadne's kidnapping. Though it probably would have looked strange for the alleged abductor to simply turn himself in, Ariadne's presence and testimony would have been enough for the public.

However, with the current circumstances, normal process of law wouldn't guarantee Nathanial's punishment. After all, it was the team's intervention that guaranteed Ariadne's safe return, not the police.

Thus, they had to work outside normal procedures.

This is where both Arthur and Eames's history with the military came in handy. Though both of them had long since abandoned government-regulated jobs for their own work in the dreamscape, they still had connections with many high-ranking officers. Not all of these officers had first-hand experience with the dreamscape, though they knew enough about Eames and Arthur to not ask questions.

"Don't worry, he won't be getting out for a long time" Lieutenant Sierra Marshall had assured Eames, penning something down on her clipboard before handing it off to a lower-ranking soldier nearby. Currently, they were at a military base down in the Rhone Alps, having relocated Nathanial to the area after the final game. From there, he was to be transported to a high security prison, one Sierra Marshall just so happened to have connections in.

"But how long is a long time?" Nash insisted, looking slightly worried. As Cobb and Arthur were both too busy elsewhere to go, the architect had accompanied Eames on his charge of turning in Nathanial.

"Well, technically I didn't have the authority to give him a life sentence, or even sentence him to death. That's a whole other process, and significantly more legal hoops to jump through." She confessed, not looking up from her clipboard.

"So?"

"So I did a manual year input instead. I'm guessing 60 years with no parole shouldn't be a problem?" She smiled at him.

Nash noticeably exhaled. Given that Nathanial was currently 56, and his health records weren't exactly flawless, it essentially _was_ a life sentence.

Eames had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Thanks Marshall. It's good to know I can still count on you."

"Anytime." She stuck out her hand, and he shook it.

Smirking, the forger glanced over at Nathanial's armored transport. "Make sure you don't rough him up too bad."

She returned the expression. "No worries, I asked Lasky and the others to take _extra _special care of him."

"Lasky's the one with the twins right, Molly and June?"

She laughed. "You know it."

"Good." He put his hands in his pockets, staring out at the truck with distant eyes.

As soon as the truck's engine roared to life, Eames and Nash said their goodbyes, watching Sierra hurry over to the passenger seat. They just turned their backs when they head her call out again.

"Don't forget you still owe me that drink!"

Eames gestured his hand without turning around. "Expect a call."

With that, the vehicle took off.

Oo0oO

Elsewhere, Cobb was doing his part to clean up the game. While Eames dealed with Nathanial, the extractor was left to disassemble the man's network of underlings. In total, Nathanial had 16 individuals working under him, more than half of which had criminal records. For the most part it was all minor charges, theft or fraud seemed to be the recurring pattern. However, three accounts caught the extractor's eye.

The first was that of Kavin Fletcher, originally Jeremiah Fletcher before a name change in 1998. He had been then team's escort during the first and last games, and interestingly, the only one of the 16 listed names to have been charged and convicted of murder.

The second was Mary Avalon, who had one of the cleaner slates amongst those listed; just two charges as a young adult, both of which she had been cleared from. Interestingly enough though, they had both been computer crimes. In other words, she was a hacker. Caught twice when she was still new to her craft, and then getting good enough to completely cover her own tracks. Though, assuming his inference was correct, why she had left the earlier charges on her record was a mystery to Cobb. Perhaps she kept them there to brag.

The last profile of interest belonged to Sam Green. The man _without _a criminal record. Or really, any record at all. Besides graduating high school, it didn't seem that Sam Green had _done_ anything. Unless Cobb's research was somehow inaccurate, it seemed he hadn't even gotten a driver's license. Yet Green was the man with the military trained subconscious, and, besides Nathanial, was probably one of the most interesting figures involved in the whole operation.

Unsurprisingly, all three of them had vanished shortly after the final game. Sam was the first gone, disappearing almost immediately after waking Cobb, Eames, and Nash. Kavin and Mary had disappeared not long after they learned the job was over, taking their money (from their respective burner bank accounts) and never looking back.

In fact, Vira (and some travel manager named Katie) were the only two who stuck around to help sort out everything. Vira worked out of some undefinable loyalty to the team, Katie out of loyalty to the extra cash provided by Vira.

Thus, with all of the members of the game scattered, Cobb was left to ponder exactly what to do with all of this information.

"It's obvious Avalon was the one responsible for hacking the campus footage." Cobb explained over the phone, sounding annoyed. "Fletcher's probably the one who took out Jarvis – or anyone else who got in their way – and who knows who pulled off the kidnapping."

"And? Are you asking if we should track them down?" Eames asked from the other end of the line, sounding skeptical.

"It'd be doable. Most of them are just minor offenders, if that. It wouldn't be too hard to tail them. With perhaps the exception of Avalon."

"They were just doing their job" Eames countered, exasperated. "We already got Nathanial; we don't need to go looking through all his dirty laundry just to find another scapegoat."

"No but you don't get it." Cobb declared, and the forger could hear the man rustling through some papers. "See, I was looking through some of Lyell's history, into the teams the company hired for the job Arthur mentioned."

"Okay."

"I managed to find some notes on the event, buried in with all of the financial stuff. It looks like everything matches Nathanial's story. Except Nathanial himself.

"Except Nathanial? What do you mean?"

"I mean Nathanial's personal history lines up with the story. Nothing on record about him specifically contradicts what he said happened to him. But according to Lyell records, they killed the architect when he came out of the dreamscape."

"It's gotta be a mistake." Eames frowned.

"I don't think so, the record is surprisingly specific."

"So you think the man we met wasn't really the Nathanial from that job?"

"Maybe? I don't know."

"_Cobb_."

"Sorry it's just-" the extractor made a frustrated noise. "Technically there's no way we can prove that this record is real, and Nathanial's identity seems rock solid. Even the birth certificate seems to line up. But… what if it doesn't? What if Nathanial isn't who he said he is?"

"But why would he lie like that? And also, how would he know Arthur then?"

"I don't know. I just… I don't know."

"Then give it a rest Cobb. The man clearly responsible for Ariadne's kidnapping is in jail for the rest of his life. We have her back, and we all got out of this thing alive. Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You have a family to worry about Cobb. Look after them. Don't base theories off of shady records and what ifs."

"…Alright." Cobb said slowly, some of the tension leaving his tone.

"Look, I gotta go. But you better put this thing to rest."

"I will."

"Good. And next time, leave the hard research to stick-in-the-mud."

"Goodbye Mr. Eames." Cobb hung up. Sighing heavily, he gathered the printed papers around him, making a pile. Many of them were marked over several times with red pen, notes to himself.

Pointedly not looking over them too carefully, he shoved them all into an empty manila folder, before transferring the folder into a filing cabinet. He hoped he would abide by Eames's advice and never have to open the file again.

Oo0oO

Surprisingly enough, the greatest challenge for the team had not been part of Nathanial's network at all. It was in fact, what to do with Ariadne. It was out of the question to simply introduce her back to the public, have Arthur pull her out of a hat as if he had tracked her down himself. Given that her real kidnapper was nowhere to be found, the obvious conclusion painted the point man and the rest of the team in an unfortunate picture.

So Arthur invented a scenario.

With the help of Miles, a typed letter was formulated and delivered to Arthur's front door. This he promptly delivered to the police. The letter claimed to be a confession from her kidnapper, stating that he had come to regret what he had done and was going to give her back. Though, with no intention of relinquishing himself to the police, he had opted to leave her – mostly unharmed – in a warehouse on the outskirts of Paris.

Naturally Arthur went to the scene with a full police escort, where they found Ariadne as promised. It wasn't hard for Arthur to fake his relief upon seeing her "for the first time in weeks". Even those few hours had killed him. Thankfully, the police didn't suspect anything, allowing the two them go off to the medical vehicle while they investigated the scene for prints or anything else to identify the kidnapper. They wouldn't find anything of course; Miles had made sure of that.

Thus the next few days were spent near the hospital, Ariadne receiving care and being questioned by the police. She claimed to never have seen her kidnapper's face, having been blindfolded much of the time. She also stated to have no knowledge of how she was taken from her dorm, as she simply remembered opening her door before "everything went black".

Naturally, he police were suspicious about her answers, and at one point Arthur overheard a few officers considering Stockholm syndrome.

That is, until she allowed herself to tell a few truths.

"Did he ever…touch you?" It was a female agent speaking, her tone delicate and her eyes searching.

Arthur almost fainted when he heard her say yes.

"In what way?"

"He… hit me. When he wanted to get his point across… o-or I didn't do what he wanted."

"Was this often?"

"Yes…no he wasn't around a lot."

The agent made some notes. "Did he ever touch you in any other way?"

"He- h-he" she managed a nod before she burst into tears.

At this point Arthur had stepped in, screaming at the woman about pushing Ariadne too far, calling her and the rest of the force sick bastards. The architect was shaking badly, each sob rocking her whole body and sending forth a new wave of tears.

From that point on, no one else had questioned her.

Oo0oO

After a few days in the hospital she was released, albeit reluctantly. The police insisted on placing guards around her home, in case her kidnapper changed his mind and wanted to come back for her. Arthur assured them it wouldn't be an issue.

Too unstable to go back to school, Ariadne spent the next few weeks with Arthur in his apartment. There, under his careful watch, she slowly began to recover.

At first she was quiet. Never spoke unless spoken too, and when she did her voice was fragile, cracking almost. Arthur theorized it was from the crying, which she did a lot of. Ariadne was often distant, spending long periods of time just staring.

At night was the worst. She became paranoid of the dark, which she claimed reminded her of the places he kept her. When she closed her eyes she was back on the cold concrete floor, in the small empty rooms where she spent so many of her days. And of course there were the nightmares.

Although Ariadne was open with Arthur about many things that had happened to her, what happened in her nightmares she refused to share. All the point man knew is that she would cry in her sleep, and often waking up screaming. During those times she was almost as bad as when they first reunited, all the fear and pain returning as if it had never left.

Understandably, Arthur was afraid for her. Though he kept up a smile in the architect's presence, he was greatly concerned for her. To Miles he confessed his fears, his deepest one being that she may never psychologically recover from the event. After almost a week of waking to her screaming, he even pondered the thought of extracting the memories from her.

Yet the old teacher assured him it would get better. "She has a strong mind, she'll recover. Right now Ariadne's at her weakest, all you can do is be an anchor to hold her to the here and now."

"But will that be enough? I mean, isn't there anything more I can do?"

"Try not worrying so much. You may think you're hiding it from her, but she can see the concern in your eyes. And right now, Ariadne needs you there as her friend, not her parent."

Though he hated admitting the man was right, Arthur took his advice. And soon, Ariadne began to recover.

It was a slow process, but she gradually returned to her old self. She began to smile more often, genuinely, not the forced ones she threw on for guests. Her appetite returned, and before long the fog in her eyes began to lift. Soon she was sleeping through the night, and before long even her nightmares became little more than memories.

"It's funny," she had said to him early on, "given what I've done before, in dreamscapes, I thought managing dreams would be the least of my problems."

"Natural dreams are never the same," Arthur had admitted, "it's easy to manipulate your way through someone else's mind. Not always your own."

"And my mine's a wreck," she tried to say the line humorously, but the point man detected a slight tremble in her voice.

He pulled her closer. "But it's a beautiful wreck," he kissed her on the forehead "and I'm here to help you sort through it."

Oo0oO

Three weeks after the end of the game, Arthur found himself draped over the couch in his apartment, Ariadne close against his side. Though it was the middle of the day, she was sleeping, something she had been doing a lot more of recently. On TV. was some dog show they had been watching together, not really to watch so much as to use as an excuse to lay next to each other.

It was a Saturday, and he had made sure to clear his schedule so nothing interrupted their day together. Though this uninterrupted day currently consisted of her sleeping, he didn't mind. She needed it, after all.

Arthur was just considering taking a nap himself when he heard a firm knock at the door. Surprised, yet unconcerned, he ignored it. The TV had been on mute for a while, so with luck whoever it was would give up and go away.

After about 20 seconds however, the knock came again.

Annoyed, but not wanting the sound to wake her up, Arthur disentangled himself from the couch blankets, moving slowly so as not to wake her. Ariadne shifted her position slightly, but otherwise remained asleep. Thankful, the point man quickly through on some jeans, hurrying towards the door just as the third series of knocks began.

Undoing the lock, he prepared himself for what he presumed was some overly persistent salesman. However, he was taken aback when he recognized a familiar plop of red hair.

Oo0oO

**A/N: Woot. Sorry if part of this chapter is a little weird, I switched styles in the middle of it so some of the transitions aren't super smooth. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Keep reading!**


	29. The Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 29: The Unexpected Visitor

Oo0oO

"Jarvis?" Arthur was taken aback.

The man in questioned blinked for a second, before recognition dawned on him. His face relaxed. "Arthur, glad I managed to find you."

"You're alive?" the point man struggled to reign in his shock.

"Yeah," the red-haired man said tiredly. "Needless to say, we need to talk."

"Sure just give me one second." Arthur retreated from the door, disappearing inside the house. In a hurried rush he threw on something closer to his more usual attire, grabbing his watch and fixing his hair in the mirror. After a moment of hesitation, he also grabbed the handgun he kept hidden under the mattress, in the off chance that this conversation wasn't going to end pleasantly. Grabbing a post-it, he scribbled a quick message to Ariadne, then returned to the front door. Jarvis was waiting there patiently, not having moved since Arthur left him.

Upon the point man's return, he nodded slightly, and the two men proceeded out of the complex. During this time they were mostly silent, Arthur unsure whether or not to strike up a conversation, Jarvis not really seeming interested in small talk at all.

Indeed, the man didn't seem his usual self. There were dark circles underneath his previously bright eyes, and he looked overall tired. He smelled of cigars, surprising given that Arthur had previously never pegged Jarvis down as the smoking type. Though what did he know, the last time he saw this man he had been working with Ariadne's kidnapper.

Frowning at the memory, Arthur barely noticed when they arrived outside the building, only noting such when exposed to direct sunlight. He winced, as he had spent all day inside.

Not seeing, or at least not remarking upon Arthur's discomfort, Jarvis proceeded ahead. The point man expected a long walk, but was surprised when the man settled on a bench not more than 100 yards away from the building.

"Sorry to drag you all the way out here," he apologized lamely, "I figured it would be better not to have this conversation in front of your girlfriend."

"How did you-

He held up his hand. "It's how I found you. From what Nathanial told us, I knew there was no way I was gonna be able to track you down directly. She on the other hand, wasn't that hard. You're her emergency contact, after all."

The point man frowned. He would have to bury that trail when he had more time. "Alright. But that still doesn't explain why you're here. Or why you're alive."

Jarvis raised an eyebrow, "You were hoping Nathanial took me out?"

"Of course not. It was just implied that… you were taken out for getting to close to us."

Surprisingly, Jarvis laughed at that. "You think Nathanial would have somebody pull the trigger over something as minor as that? Ha, as if. No, Nathanial was an ass, but he wasn't the killing type. Not excessively at least. When it was determined I was getting too close to you, or too cocky or whatever, I was pulled out. Given 24 hours to disappear, under threat of death. I honestly doubt they would have done it but…" he shrugged, "you never know."

"So they just let you walk out?"

"Stopped paying me of course, but essentially yeah. Though I'll admit it crossed my mind to rebel and try to shut the son of a bitch up, I had enough common sense to walk away."

"Then why come back now?"

"Well the game's over for one. I heard about Arianna-

"Ariadne." Arthur corrected.

Jarvis waved him off. "I heard about Ariadne's return on the news, so I knew you guys had won. Speaking of which, I assume Nathanial's dead?"

"High security prison in Africa. 60 years no bail."

"Deserves it." Jarvis huffed, leaning back farther on the bench. "Honestly not even surprised you let him live, you're too nice like that."

Arthur frowned. "You still never explained why you were looking for me."

"Right." The red-haired man sat up straight, looking the point man directly in the eyes. "Here's where it gets interesting. Arthur, Nathanial wasn't working alone."

"We know," the point man supplied, equal parts relieved and annoyed that it wasn't something more. "We managed to retrieve his pay list off of-

"No I don't mean anyone working for him. I mean, Nathanial himself was working _under _someone."

"What? No that doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it?"

"Cobb double-checked all of the paperwork, there's no evidence of anyone above him. He's not on the payroll, all orders came from him, hell, even all mentions of 'the boss' line up with him."

"That's because _his_ boss wasn't the same as all of ours. He was the only one in contact with them. Then he passed down orders to us."

"No, no that doesn't make sense. Why would-" Arthur cut himself off. "Besides, how could you know this if we didn't find anything on file about it?"

"Well…" Jarvis rubbed the back of his neck. "Because, _technically_ even I don't have solid information about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I was just the escort. Maybe some of those closer to Nathanial knew something more about it. After all, for the longest time the idea of someone above Nathanial was just a rumor. Then I heard him on a phone call."

"So?"

"_So, _he was reporting on the progress of the game to someone. Giving the positions of all of your team, how he was handling the situation, etc. Though I suppose that's not all that unusual, he sounded submissive, apologetic almost."

"Maybe it was just someone else on the payroll, someone operating from a different part of the world." Arthur supplied, though even he knew his argument was weak.

Jarvis, meanwhile, shook his head. "It's true a lot of us were split up at different locations, but everyone was on a need-to-know basis. Nathanial was reporting on in depth stuff, even the condition of your girlfriend."

"Any chance it was the travel manager?" The point man offered. If anyone, it would make sense someone like that would need to know where everyone was at any given point in time.

"You mean Katie? No, she traveled with us – and close to Nathanial – at all times."

Arthur's frown deepened, his mind racing to form a conclusion other than what Jarvis was suggesting.

"But logically it doesn't make sense! Nathanial has motive, he knows me and my past, and he had the resources. Why would he follow someone else's lead in this? And who would that someone else even be?"

"I don't know." Jarvis admitted sheepishly. "I thought, or I hoped, you would know."

For a moment, silence overtook the men. Jarvis looked apologetically towards Arthur, Arthur, frustrated, focused on the ground.

"You sure there's no one else it could be? Did you hear anything to suggest who it might be on the other end?"

"No sorry. But…actually…" the red-haired man hesitated.

"What is it?" Arthur piped in, hoping for insight.

"I suppose it doesn't really give that much more insight behind who was on the other end, but I'm pretty sure the person on the other end was a woman."

The point man's excitement dwindled. "How could you tell?"

"He talked to himself, sometimes. Mumbled things. At first I didn't pay much attention to it, but when I did I noticed he said stuff like 'she said' this or 'she promised' that. Like he was expecting something from this woman. Respected her."

Arthur tightened his lips. He was about to remark on the insignificance of these mumblings, especially given Nathanial's less than rational state of mind, when he remembered something. During the last conversation he had with Nathanial, just before he was pulled out of the dreamscape, the man had said something.

In a moment of weakness, shocked and faced with the reality of his loss, Nathanial had said something strange. "It was unwinnable!" He said "She _told _me it was unwinnable!". Even at the time the point man had questioned his use of the word she. However, he had forgotten all about the moment in the confusion after the end of the game. Until now.

Suddenly Arthur found himself faced with the possibility of this. What if Jarvis was right? What if there was a woman behind it all, who had manipulated Nathanial into working for her, and had given him the funds to support this operation. This woman, then, could hide her identity behind the lavishness of the operation. After all, Nathanial had played the part of the showman exceptionally well.

But of course, all that begged the question, who was this woman? Again, presuming Nathanial was right, weren't they all just back to square one in knowing the offender's identity?

Out loud, Arthur cursed violently, standing up from the bench rather abruptly.

Who who who? Who could it be? Nathanial's story had made sense, all the pieces lined up so perfectly. But then again, maybe that's where something had gone wrong. Maybe the pieces had lined up a little too perfectly. After all, there were still a few questions with unsatisfying answers. Why did he have them travel to so many different game locations? Why not just kill Arthur? Why all the dreamscapes? Additionally, why would Nathanial have waited _this long_ for revenge?

Too many prevailing questions, not enough satisfying answers. Though in the end, it still all came down to one. Who was the woman on the phone?

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**A/N: The last chapter is ahead! Soon all questions will be answered! Though are they the answers Arthur was hoping for? Read to find out! **


	30. Ties That Bind Us

Chapter 30: Ties That Bind Us

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"I'll admit, I didn't see it coming," Cobb spoke grimly, not taking his eyes off the road.

"None of us did, or else it wouldn't have taken us a full month to find out something was wrong in the first place." Arthur returned, his tone not unlike the extractor's.

"I take it there's no chance of turning back now?" Cobb smiled dryly.

Arthur sighed. "You know neither of us would be able to sleep at night sitting on this."

"Yeah well, doesn't make it any easier."

The point man made a small noise of agreement, just as they pulled up on the house. In a smooth movement, Cobb turned off the engine and exited the vehicle, Arthur mirroring him. However, they didn't immediately approach the house, both men lingering around the car another moment in hesitation.

"Our backup's a few minutes behind us, didn't want to scare her off before we got some answers." Cobb supplied, not taking his eyes from the house.

"You think she'll talk so easily?"

"If I know anything about her, or people like her, she'll be too impressed that we found her to keep anything hidden. And with our past… I think we _deserve _a full explanation."

"Perhaps." Arthur was likely fixated on the house. "I still can't believe..."

Cobb finally tore his attention away from the structure, catching the point man's eye. "Evidence doesn't lie… even if the truth is ugly, we don't have much choice but to accept it."

"Having regrets?"

"A few. But I'd like to hear her side of all of this before I lay out all of my emotions."

Nodding slightly, Arthur made a gesture towards the house, indicating Cobb should lead. Begrudgingly, the extractor did so, making his way to the front door with the point man close on his heels. He didn't bother knocking, for despite not being expected, he knew she would see them anyways. Calmly the two men entered the house, shutting the front door pointedly in order to make sure she heard. Though they were both familiar with the layout of the home, they paused in the front entryway, waiting.

Sure enough, the woman in question soon appeared, hurrying down the stairs at the sound of their arrival.

"Cobb, didn't expect to see you back here so soon. And Arthur I'm surprised, I thought you would still be in Paris." Though her words were welcoming, her tone brimmed with annoyance.

"Alas, business demands my presence elsewhere." He said with as much warmth as he could muster.

"Naturally, how's Ariadne by the way?"

"Fine." It was Cobb who answered. Though his tone was amiable enough, Arthur recognized the severity in it as well. Casual conversation was over, to him, everything on was all business. Even if he was dealing with family.

She, meanwhile, paused a moment, likewise recognizing Cobb's hostility. "Well, I take it you're not here for pleasantries. So what's this about?"

Though the extractor was eager to launch in, Arthur stopped him. "It would probably be best if we had this conversation in the living room."

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing, following the two men to the moderately furnished area. Not taking her eyes off them, she perched on the edge of the couch. "Well?"

"We know, Sophia." Cobb spoke firmly.

"Know?" Her voice was neutral.

"We know about your involvement in Ariadne's kidnapping. You may not have ever been on site yourself, but it's all in the records."

"What? No. Cobb, do you know what you're accusing me of? You know I would never do anything to hurt Ariadne."

"But it wasn't about Ariadne. It was about me, and the rest of the team. She was just the bait." Arthur interjected.

"Arthur you- you're agreeing with him?" Despite the accusation, Arthur noted that her tone brimmed with curiosity rather than fear.

_She's still going to try playing innocent. _The point man thought to himself. _She doesn't think we have proof, so she's assuming we'll back off when we can't get a confession. _

"Evidence can be rather convincing." Cobb snapped, unable to withhold his hostility. Arthur shot him a look.

In an effort to stop Cobb before he said anything he might regret, the point man reached his briefcase. Digging around, he pulled out several file folders, and laid them out on the table before Sophia.

"What is this?" She said slowly, a small drop of concern entering her tone.

"Our evidence." Arthur supplied. He opened the first folder, the one with the information collected by Cobb.

"Cobb was the one who first noticed something was wrong with Nathanial's story. According to Nathanial, he and I had been on opposite sides of a dreamscape mission for a company named Lyell. Thanks to my actions, his team failed the game, and as a result he was pulled out of the dreamscape and tortured. This, as he explained it, was his motivation for kidnapping Ariadne and setting up this whole game. He wanted to get back at me by taking someone I love."

"Okay…" she spoke slowly, processing the information "But I'm not seeing anything that proves this 'Nathanial' wasn't the one responsible."

"That's because his story made sense, until I found this." It was Cobb who spoke, handing Sophia a piece of paper from the top of the pile. "This is a copy of the record Lyell kept on the event. Arthur's part of the story lines up, but according to this the architect – that's Nathanial – was killed once he came out of the dreamscape."

Sophia scanned over the document for a few moments, her lips pursed. "Bad bookkeeping perhaps," she handed it back. "Or maybe they changed their minds about killing him."

"Doubtful. Lyell's hardly the type." Arthur supplied.

She frowned. "Alright, assuming this document is correct; why would that man claim to be Nathanial?"

"For a plausible motive. So, upon the conclusion of this game, we wouldn't even suspect that he was working under someone else's orders." Cobb answered.

"And you think I'm that someone else?" she raised an eyebrow. "But why would I? I love Ariadne; you know I would never do anything to hurt her, or the rest of you. More than that, you've presented evidence that the man isn't who he said he was. But what evidence is there on me?"

"At first there were just rumors. Some of his subordinates confessed to hearing him talking on the phone to some woman he considered his boss." Arthur admitted calmly.

"A woman? Just because his boss was female you assume it was me?"

"Of course not. At first we didn't even consider the possibility that it could be you. Then we started considering who this woman would have to be. She would have to have intimate knowledge of Ariadne, Cobb, Eames, and I. She would have to be familiar with the dreamscape. She would have to have a considerable sum of money to finance such an event. She was likely someone older, used to being in charge and able to put the man who called himself Nathanial in his place. She'd have to be clever, to keep herself hidden so well. She'd have to have knowledge of Lyell's affairs, to pull off Nathanial's fake identity." Arthur looked Sophia straight in the eye. She remained silent.

"Sophia, you're Miles's wife, and Cobb's father in law. You've known us, and about the dreamscape, for years."

Sophia's mouth twitched slightly, but still she said nothing.

Arthur and Cobb exchanged a glance. "When we first considered it may be you, we asked Miles for some of your bank statements. He was more than willing to comply." The point man laid out the papers. "During the last 2 months, you've been making huge withdrawals. When we asked Miles about it, he said it was for some community project you were helping finance, along with some personal spending. However, when we look at the expenditures Nathanial documented…" Arthur laid out another sheet. "the spending matches up."

Sophia was still silent.

Cobb cleared his throat. "Additionally, in less I'm recalling incorrectly, I believe one of your last jobs before retirement was at Lyell. Or, am I wrong?"

Silence fell heavily over the room. Arthur and Cobb looked, expressionless, at Sophia. Sophia, meanwhile, glared back at them.

"We know how you did it," Arthur prodded. "Just in this alone we have more than enough to put you away. We just need to know why."

Again tense silence fell over the room. Arthur knew they weren't wrong about this; there was no doubt whether or not Sophia was guilty here. But, even with all the evidence stacked against her, the point man hadn't been able to fathom why. What motive did she have for attacking the team like this? And why do it so grandiosely? If she just wanted to kill Ari, she easily could have gotten away with it. But she went through the trouble of constructing the game. What Arthur couldn't understand was _why_.

After almost a solid minute of silence, Sophia cautious expression dropped. A smug smile spread across her face. "I suppose calling my lawyer won't do me any good here." She mused, bringing her hand to her face in a thoughtful gesture. "Though, even if I wanted to, I'm sure my husband did his part to make sure I couldn't anyways."

Suddenly, the smile slipped from her face, her expression turning cold and hard. "You're right. I'm the one who's responsible for kidnapping Ariadne."

Cobb scowled. "Bitch."

"Oh save it Dominic. After all you don't even know my reasons."

"Perhaps you'd like to enlighten us," Arthur interjected, hoping to prevent a feud. Even if they had managed to squeeze a confession out of her, they still needed answers.

She turned her attention towards the point man. "So you have no idea then, not even a guess as to why I went through all the trouble?"

Arthur said nothing.

"Figures. But this, all of this, is about Mal."

"What does this have to do with her?!" Cobb demanded, standing up abruptly.

"Easy Dom," Arthur grabbed his arm, half-guiding the man back onto the couch.

Sophia threw him a peculiar look, but otherwise ignored the outburst. "The game you played was, in a sense, revenge. Payback for Mal's death. But not against you Cobb." She met Arthur's eyes. "But against you."

"But why me?"

She exhaled. "Most people blame Cobb for what happened to Mal. Even Miles did, for a while. After all, he's the one who performed the inception that ultimately lead to her suicide. But Cobb's only fault was loving her. After all, it wasn't just me who lost her, Cobb lost her too." She was quiet for a moment, something like sadness overtaking her expression. Then, in another moment, her coldness returned.

"You Arthur, you introduced her to the idea of the dreamscape. You filled her head with stories of a fantasy world, where simple thoughts could shape the world around you into whatever you wanted. Then you took her into the dreamscape.

Even if you intended for it to be a one-time event, it wasn't long after that first dream that you introduced her to Dominic. And the rest we all know." Sophia looked away for a moment, as if recalling, or perhaps suppressing the memories. Then she launched on.

"I wanted to make you suffer like I did, like _she _did. But killing you wouldn't be enough. I needed you to know the pain of loss. Given your romantic history, however, this wasn't easy. Then along came Ariadne."

"You're sick," Arthur spat, unable to contain himself.

Sophia, meanwhile, ignored the comment. "At first I was just going to kill her. It wouldn't have been too hard. But I realized, that wouldn't accomplish anything. I needed to make it feel like you killed her. So I devised a game. And in order to keep myself out of the equation, I devised a villain with logical motive.

Jason – the man you came to know as Nathanial – made it easy. In fact, the world travel was his request. I asked for something intricate and he delivered…though admittedly not in the way I would have expected." She shrugged in a frustratingly casual way. "I suppose he can't help himself. He tries to deny it, but he has a bit of a god complex. Likes being in control, holding power over others. In normal conversation you'd never guess, but give him power…" She faded off

"And you left Ariadne alone with this man?" Arthur questioned, his voice steely cold. "Do you have any idea what he could have done to her? What he has done?"

Sophia cracked a smirk, but otherwise left the point man's question unanswered. "Jason's plan was grandiose, I admit, but it served my purposes. Additionally, having you play four games instead of just one stacked the odds against you. So I provided the finances, hand-selected his underlings, and thus the game was set."

"But we won. Ariadne's alive, and we got through the game without tearing each other apart." It was Cobb who spoke, his voice cold. "Where's the revenge in that?"

Sophia frowned. "An unfortunate oversight on my part. I had instructed Nathanial to rig the games, do everything in his power to make sure that you _didn't_ win. However, he got too caught up in the thrill of it. He _wanted_ you to get to the end, wanted to stretch out the tension until the very last moment. I tried to keep him focused, have him break you or trick you out of a win before you got too far. However…" she motioned to Arthur and Cobb sitting on the couch. "Obviously he failed."

"So what, after the game ended you decided to give up your plans?" Cobb pressed, his disbelief in his tone evident.

"Surprised? I was too. When I heard Ariadne was returned home safe I was furious. I admit, I didn't plan for failure. My first thought was to try again, try to break you some other way. But then I realized that it didn't matter to me anymore. I doubted I could get away with such a grand scheme twice, and just as well, I found myself beginning to forgive you.

So I allowed myself to come to peace with the matter. After all, I would be escaping the situation free of blame, so I found no reason to hang on to such malice." Sophia's frown deepened. "Though, I admit I didn't expect to be caught."

Again, silence overtook the room. Cobb growled slightly. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

"If you're looking for an apology you won't find one here. I stand by what I did. My only regret is hiring such a useless gamekeeper."

Cobb looked as though he were about to snap. Sophia, meanwhile, stood up calmly, her expression neutral. "In any case, I believe you have some friends here who are preparing to take me away."

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**A/N: Epilogue is ahead. Keep reading! **

**Also, in case you need a refresher on who Sophia is, refer back to chapter 4 of this story.**


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

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Three days later, Arthur found himself back in Paris, back again with Ariadne in his small apartment. Though he had told her that he was leaving to track down someone else who may be involved in her kidnapping, the point man had carefully avoided specifics. The facts at that point did confirm Sophia's guilt, however he didn't want Ariadne to know until he and Cobb investigated for themselves. Now that she had admitted her responsibility, Ariadne deserved to know the full truth.

"Wow," the young architect said slowly, obviously having a hard time taking it all in. "I…never expected Sophia would be the type."

"Me either." Arthur admitted, absently looking down at the dirt path beneath him.

At the moment, he and Ariadne were strolling the Bois de Boulogne, an enormous park commissioned by Napoleon III in 1852. Though the park was infamous for hosting a supply of sex workers after dark, during midday it was quite a sight to behold. On all sides, the pair was surrounded by stunning greenery, innumerable numbers and types of trees hugging the path. In the gaps between their branches they could just see one of the park's artificial rivers, bubbling along calmly in the warm daylight.

"So she had that man…kidnap me, and put on all those games all over the world, just to get back at you?" Her tone was skeptical.

"Sophia blames me for what happened to Mal. According to her, because I introduced Mal to the dreamscape I was the one who was ultimately responsible for Cobb having to perform inception, and therefore responsible for her death."

"That's some twisted logic."

"I'd agree if I didn't think there was some truth to the statement."

Ariadne abruptly turned to face him. "Arthur."

The point man met her eyes slowly. "It _was_ my fault in a way. Even when I first heard about what happened to her, I didn't feel as though Cobb was responsible, I felt… more like I killed her."

"That's crazy."

"I know. Eventually I moved past it, but obviously… she didn't." He fell silent. Ariadne meanwhile turned her gaze elsewhere.

"But it's over now, isn't it?"

"Should be, besides Nathanial –err, Jason – everyone working under Sophia was just in for the profit. As soon as it all went south they fled."

"Wait, you mean Jason wasn't working for profit?"

Arthur winced slightly. "No he was in it for the… theatrics. Cobb speculates he might have had a thing for Sophia."

"Ew," Ariadne shivered, but made no move to question him.

"Either way though, both he and Sophia are behind bars. So you're safe now." He smiled down at her.

She returned it. "You know… I'm thinking about going back to school tomorrow."

"Really? Are you sure?" Despite his efforts Arthur couldn't help the surprise, or concern, in his voice.

She nodded without looking at him. "I've missed a lot already; I don't want to get even more behind. My teachers have already made special exceptions for me, letting me email them assignments and such, but if I want to graduate with the rest of my class I need to go back."

"I see."

"But…" she bit her lip.

"But?"

"Would you mind…staying in town a bit longer?" Her eyes grew wide.

Arthur felt his eyebrows shoot up. Mistaking this for confusion, Ariadne rushed on, "It's just, I don't know if I feel completely comfortable yet. I know there's no way they can get to me, I'm just… still kind of scared. Plus… I'll miss you."

The point man was surprised to notice her face turning slightly pink.

"It's okay if you have some job you have to go do, but I-

"I'll stay."

"Really?" her voice sounded hopeful.

Arthur smiled. "Really. I'll stay here as long as you need me, even if that means until we're both on our death beds."

"Arthur…" her eyes shone with tears.

On instinct, Arthur kissed her. Though clearly surprised by the movement, she didn't pull away.

Arthur was the one to break the kiss, his lips forming a smile he couldn't help. She mirrored him, laughing slightly.

"When you're done with the year, remind me to take you somewhere." He nudged her, taking her hand.

"Like where?"

"Australia maybe? I don't know, just… anywhere."

"Australia sounds perfect." Ariadne moved in closer, hugging his side.

Smiling dumbly, the pair continued their walk. As horrible as the game had been, for both of them, it was over now. With Nathanial a distant memory, and Jason and Sophia behind bars, they could start looking forward to the future for once. And what a promising future it was.

_The end_

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**Thank you all so much for your support throughout my writing this story! It's been more than 2 years since I've started this story, and I appreciate everyone who stuck with me through all of it. There were a lot of times in the beginning I wanted so badly to quit this story, but your continued support is what kept me going. So truly thank you. **

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**-FireflyCity **


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